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THE CORRESPONDENCE 



BURNS AND CLARINDA. 



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CORRESPONDENCE 



BURNS AND CLARINDA. 



WITH A MEMOIR OF 
MRS M'LEHOSE, (CLARINDA.) 



ARRANGED AND EDITED BY HER GRANDSON, 

W. C. M'LEHOSE. 



EDINBURGH: o 
WILLIAM TAIT, 107, PRINCE'S STREET; 
SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO., LONDON; 
AND JOHN GUMMING, DUBLIN. 

MDCCCXLIII. 



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PREFACE. 



The Correspondence of Burns and Clarinda lias 
often been sought for, of late years, with the view 
of publication. Among others, Allan Cunning- 
ham, in the year 1 834, when publishing his edition 
of the Life and Works of the Poet, made an un- 
successful application. Mrs M'Lehose, in a letter 
dated 16th July 1834, declined Mr Cunningham's 
request, and gave the following account of the 
original surreptitious appearance of a portion of 
the letters of Burns : — 

" Mrs James Gray, then Miss Peacock, and 
Mr Grahame, the author of ; The Sabbath," (two 
of my most valued and lamented friends,) applied 
to me on behalf of a literary gentleman of the name 
of Finlay, who was then engaged in writing a Life 
of the Poet, for permission to make a few extracts 
from the Letters to enrich his Life. This was 
unfortunately granted ; and the Letters lent to Mr 



VI PREFACE. 

Finlay by Mr Grahame, under this express condi- 
tion, that a few extracts inserted in the Life was 
the sole permission granted to him. Besides mak- 
ing this use of the Letters, Mr Finlay gave per- 
mission to a bookseller to publish all the Letters 
which had been intrusted to him, and added, most 
falsely, in an advertisement prefixed to them, that 
this was done with my permission, ( ; condescen- 
sion," 1 as he termed it,) and that the editor was 
vested with the sole power to publish these Let- 
ters. Nothing could be more contrary to truth.'" 
Allan Cunningham, when preparing the last 
volumes of his edition, wrote Mrs M'Lehose as 
follows : — " I am now arranging the materials for 
the remaining two volumes, and feel that I want 
your aid. Without the Letters of Clarinda, the 
works of Burns will be incomplete. I wish to 
publish them at the beginning of the eighth vol- 
ume, with a short introduction, in which their 
scope and aim will be characterized. You will 
oblige me and delight your country by giving per- 
mission for this. I will do it with all due tender- 
ness. I have a high respect for your character 
and talents, and wish you to reflect, that the world 



PREFACE. Vll 

will in time have a full command over the Letters, 
and that ruder hands than mine will likely deal 
with them : my wish is for an opportunity to give 
an accredited edition of the Correspondence to the 
public, and give a right notion of their object and 
aim, while I have it so much in my power." 

A reviewer, who was intimately acquainted with 
Clarinda for many years, in noticing Allan Cun- 
ningham's edition, thus writes : — " It is to be re- 
gretted that the letters to Clarinda are not em- 
braced in this collection ; but Mr Cunningham's 
explanation on this subject is quite satisfactory. 
We agree with him, that the letters in question 
are particularly valuable ; and cannot but think 
that it is from some misapprehension, Clarinda 
has declined to sanction their publication. We 
are certain that they could have no such tendency 
as is feared ; the justness of w T hich opinion, we are 
sure, will at once be acknowledged by all who have 
the pleasure of knowing the estimable lady to 
whom they were addressed." 

Mrs M'Lehose originally refused Mr Syme 
(who collected for Dr Currie) permission to pub- 
lish the Letters ; and declined, as has been already 



Vlll PREFACE. 



stated, various similar applications in her latter 
years. But the present editor is of opinion, that 
the time is now come for their publication, and 
that an authentic edition of the Correspondence 
will have the effect of removing prejudice, will do 
honour to the memory of his respected relative, 
and interest the public, by giving them a new 
chapter in the life of our immortal poet. This 
interest, too, is increased by the consideration 
that these letters are probably the last original 
compositions of his which will ever be made pub- 
lic. 

In reading the Correspondence of Burns and 
Clarinda, the reader will perceive, that several of 
her letters, and perhaps three or four of his, are 
wanting ; and that, in those published, various 
passages are short- coming. A brief explanation, 
in relation to their custody, is therefore deemed 
necessary. This seems the more called for, when 
it is recollected that, in 1797, Clarinda wrote to 
Mr Syme, that she never would suffer one of them 
(the letters of Burns) to perish. Clarinda sur- 
vived forty -four years ; and it is perhaps a matter 
of surprise, that the Letters should have been so 



PREFACE. IX 

well preserved, and so few lost in such a long 
period. 

In some of the Poet's letters, pieces have been 
cut out, to gratify (it is supposed) collectors of 
autographs, as it is well known that Mrs M'Lehose 
was much harassed with such applications : they 
are, besides, much torn, which was incidental to 
the frequent handling of them, for they were ex- 
hibited to gratify the curiosity of visiters. These 
are the sole causes of a few blanks being observ- 
able in the letters. The editor has an implicit 
belief that none were destroyed or suppressed by 
Mrs M'Lehose, or by her son the late Mr A. C. 
M'Lehose, W. S. 

On the death of the latter, in April 1839, there 
was found in his repositories a bundle of papers, 
containing all the letters of Sylvander now pub* 
lished, and a small portion of those of Clarinda. 
These were taken possession of by Mr ii. H. 
Pattison, advocate, on behalf of the editor, who 
was then resident abroad. Very soon after Mrs 
M c Lehose , s death, a law-agent in this city, who 
acted for her under some sort of authority in the 
two years and a-half which intervened between 



X PREFACE. 

her son's death and her own, removed from her 
repositories, which had been sealed up on the day 
of her funeral, all her private papers. The autho- 
rity from Mrs M'Lehose, such as it was, came to 
an end by her death, and the removal of her 
papers was effected without warrant of any kind. 
Two boxes of these papers were delivered up to 
the editor, on his arrival in this country, in the 
spring of 1842 ; and, after some interval of time, 
several of Clarinda's letters were sent to him, with 
the apology, that they had fallen out of a box or 
press. It is curious that the only letters, which 
so fell out of a box or press, were several of 
Clarinda's letters to Burns, and the draft of a 
letter in which she declined sitting for her portrait 
for some of the poet's admirers. 

The editor can only further express his belief, 
that Mr Pattison gave up to him the letters 
which he took charge of, in the same condition in 
which he found them in Mr M'Lehose's reposi- 
tories ; and declare that he himself has given to 
the public all he received. 

The editor takes this opportunity of rendering 
his best thanks to Mr Robert Chambers and Mr 



PREFACE. XI 

Pattison, for the useful suggestions which they 
hare made, and the valuable assistance given in 
arranging the materials, and revising them for the 
press. 



CONTENTS OF THE CORRESPONDENCE. 



LETTER I.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Regrets that he did not know her sooner. Encloses a 
few lines of poetry. Would feel mortified at being for- 
gotten by her. 79 

LETTER II.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Had determined to cultivate her acquaintance; but a 
fall from a coach prevents his visiting her at present. 80 

LETTER III.— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Trusts he will soon recover. He must not leave town 
without seeing her. Has often composed rhyme, but not 
poetry. Wishes to have all the poetry he can spare. 82 

LETTER IV.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Writes in agony. Her lines are good poetry. Knows 
not where the God of Love would have led him, if he 
had known her earlier 85 

LETTER V.— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Chides him for addressing a married woman in such a 
romantic style. Could he, Jacob-like, wait seven years \ 
Wishes she were the Duchess of Gordon, to give him 
solid proofs of friendship , . 86 

LETTER VI.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Is startled at the idea of paying his addresses to a mar- 
ried woman. If his heart went a little astray, hopes 
she wont condemn him without benefit of clergy. Re- 
plies to her raillery of seven years. ... 88 



CONTENTS OF THE CORRESPONDENCE. 



LETTER VII.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 
Has read one of her poetical pieces to Dr Gregory. 
Loves her for her taste for poesy. Likes the idea of 
Arcadian names in their correspondence. Wishes her 
• to have a just idea of his character. Describes it. She 
made a strong impression on him at their first interview. 
Says he deserved most of his unhappy hours. Wonders 
why her cup of life was dashed with sorrow. . 91 

LETTER VIII.— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Is elated by Dr Gregory's praises. Is not unhappy ; re- 
ligion has been her balm in every wo. Sends a poeti- 
cal simile 06 

LETTER IX.— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Has met a lady who would have made a better Clarinda 
than herself. Will not find fault with his loving her 
for her taste for poesy. Agrees with him in thinking 
that friendship between the sexes must have a little 
softness. They were born the same year, and, she thinks, 
thrown off by Nature in the same mould. Providence 
chastised her for her good. Hopes they will meet in a 
future state where there will be scope for every heart- 
felt affection 99 

LETTER X. — Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Sends the verses beginning u Talk not of Love," &c. 
Wishes to know if he is well enough to visit her in a 
coach 106 

LETTER XL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Is delighted with her last verses. He is not well enough 
to visit her, even in a coach. His first visit shall be to 
her 108 

LETTER XIL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Reveres her religious sentiments. Never ridiculed real 



CONTEXTS OF THE CORRESPONDENCE. d 

PAGE 

religion. Thinks that we sometimes exchange faults 
rather than get rid of them. Defines worth. Grudges 
heaven totally engrossing Garinda. Intends inserting 
her verses K Talk not of Love," &c, in the Scots Musi- 
cal Museum. Proposes giving her the first call next 
day 109 

LETTER XIII. — Stlvander to Clarivda. 

Admires the character of Satan in " Milton's Paradise 
Lost.'' Sends her the autobiographical letter he ad- 
dressed to Dr Moore 114 

LETTER XIV.— Clabinba to Sylvander. 

His letter to Dr Moore deeply affected her. Finds no 
trace of friendship to a female in it. Regrets his being 
an enemy to Calvinism. Believes in Calvinism herself, 
one or two dark tenets excepted. Wishes to know his 
objections. Advises him to resolve against wedlock. 116 

LETTER XV.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Prefers a pious to a lukewarm female. States the out- 
lines of his religious belief. Alludes to a female, whose 
happiness is twisted with the threads of his existence. 
Garinda must not guess who. Has been spending the 
evening with sordid souls who could relish nothing in 
common with him, but Port 122 

LETTER XVI. — Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Can relish most things in common with him, except Port. 
Conjectures that he alludes to his Jean. He had Cla- 
rinda's good wishes before they met. Thinks they have 
more of the eagle and turtle-dove, than of the cart-horse. 126 

LETTER XVIL— Sylvaxder to Clarinda. 

Is distracted at not having seen her. Declares she has 
converted him. Is glad' that, in his last letter, he did 



4 CONTENTS OF THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

PAGE 

not let some fatal information escape. His friendships, 
[ both strong and eternal. 1 30 

LETTER XVIIL— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Inquires how she has converted him. Regrets his inti- 
macy with a man of bad character. Wishes to know if 
Bishop Geddes remembers meeting her. . . 133 

LETTER XIX.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Religion his favourite topic. Hates controversial divin- 
ity. Deprecates her censure. Cherishes the maxim, 
" Reverence thyself." 138 

LETTER XX.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Hopes she will forgive unguarded expressions in his last 
letter 140 

LETTER XXL— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Was delighted with their last meeting. Fears she was too 
unreserved. Relates her interview with Lord Napier's 
sister. States her sentiments on religion. Sylvander 
must not be proud to her 141 

LETTER XXIL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Condemns the poetry of Elphinstone. Sends an epigram 
on him. Next week, must sing, a The night is my 
departing night." Is partial to the use of quotations. 146 

LETTER XXIII. — Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Was enraptured with Clarinda at their last meeting. 
Thinks she is too sensitive. Believes that God approves 
of sincere love and friendship. Looks forward with 
pain to their separation. 149 

LETTER XXIV. — Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Fancies Vulcan has lent him the key of her heart. 
Thinks him the first of letter-writers. Hopes he will 



CONTENTS OF THE CORRESPONDENCE. 



PAGE 

not visit her in a sedan chair. It would raise specula- 
tion among the neighbours. Elphmstone a pedant. . 151 

LETTER XXV.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Impertinence of visiters. Indisposition has depressed his 
spirits. Reflects on the mortality of man. Promises 
Clarinda unalterable love and friendship. Expects 
an equal return. Indulges in a Mahometan vision of 
Heaven. 154 

LETTER XXVI.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Imagines that Fortune has attached him to Clarinda, 
that he may give her immortality. . . . 159 

LETTER XXVII.— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Is capable of strong affection. Love has led her into 
many weaknesses. Wishes their parting over. Absence 
will mellow their interest in each other. Has been too 
often guided by impulse. 162 

LETTER XXVIIL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Appeals to her whether he trespassed against the spirit 
of Decorum. Feels stung by her reproaches. Is pained 
at the idea of having wounded her feelings. . . 167 

LETTER XXIX.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 
Proposes paying her a visit with Mr Ainslie. . 170 

LETTER XXX.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

His " Inscription on Stirling Palace" has injured his 
prospects. Schetki has composed an air for the song, 
" Clarinda, mistress of my Soul." . . . . 171 

LETTER XXXI.— Clarinda to Sylvander, 

Confesses to her Clergyman that she feels " a tender im- 
pression" for Sylvander. Wishes him to shelter his love 
under the garb of friendship. . . . . 173 



CONTENTS OF THE CORRESPONDENCE. 



LETTER XXXII.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Loathes the malignant passions of human nature. Prays 
for himself and Clarinda. Quotes some lines on religion. 180 

LETTER XXXIIL— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

He must be satisfied with her " tenderest friendship." 
Their youthful tastes were much alike. Wishes the 
scenes of nature to remind him of Clarinda. Fears that 
a friend, who has been kind to her, feels a prepossession, 
which she cannot return 183 

LETTER XXXIV.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

She possesses his soul. Proposes set times for meditat- 
ing on her. Wants her miniature to wear as a breast- 
pin 109 

LETTER XXXV.— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Has sometimes suffered severely from unguardedness. 
Thinks Sylvander a friend who would die sooner than 
injure her. Encloses her lines " To a Blackbird." Ex- 
plains some of her views on religion. Describes Lord 
Dreghorn's character, and conduct to her. . . 192 

LETTER XXXV L— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

The children of misfortune, especially, need mutual es- 
teem and reliance. Compares his own life to a temple 
in ruins. Forms high resolves. She has refined his 
soul 201 

LETTER XXXVIL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Has been disappointed in a return of affection from his 
fellow-creatures. Wishes to devote his love to God. 
Prays Heaven to bless his intercourse with Clarinda. 205 

LETTER XXXVIIL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Dreads having offended her. Sends her a poem to 
read. Wishes to alleviate her sorrows. . . 206 



CONTENTS OF THE CORRESPONDENCE. 7 

PAGE 

LETTER XXXIX.— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Fears Miss Peacock entertains admiration for Sylvander, 
too much akin to love 208 

LETTER XL.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Laughs at her fears. Considers Solomon was " The Spec- 
tator" of his day. Thinks the manners of the Court of 
Jerusalem very similar to that of London or Versailles. 
Dislikes both ancient and modern voluptuaries. . 210 

LETTER XLL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Cannot cease to love her. Execrates the half-inch soul 

of an unfeeling Presbyterian bigot. . . . 212 

LETTER XLII.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Is angry with a friend of Clarinda's, for endeavouring to 
dissolve their friendship. 213 

LETTER XLIII.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Laments that he has deprived her of a friend. Advises 
her to call a little honest pride to her aid. Prays for her. 216 

LETTER XLIV.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 
Repeats his protestations of love and friendship. . 218 

LETTER XLV.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Requests her to be comforted. Refers to the jealousy 
of two of her prying friends. Recommends her not to 
answer their inquiries . 219 

LETTER XL VI.— Sylvander to Clarinda, 

Assures her she will be always in his thoughts. Meets 
with an old friend, and his brother William, in Glas- 
gow 221 

LETTER XLVIL— Clarinda to Sylvander. 
The friend, whose prepossession she could not return, 



8 CONTENTS OF THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

PAGE 

hears of her attachment to Sylvander, and is cold in con- 
sequence. Wishes to introduce him to a young lady in Ayr. 223 

LETTER XLVIIL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Describes a day spent with Mr Pattison, a zealous Anti- 
burgher, at Paisley. Mr P. has struggled hard with the 
world and the flesh since his widowerhood. He consults 
Sylvander about marrying a young girl in his old age. 
Narrates his domestic troubles 228 

LETTER XLIX.— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Is distressed at not hearing from him. Has seen Miss 
Burnet at an evening lecture. Admires her vastly. 231 

LETTER L. — Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Does not forget her. Is hurried with business and dis- 
sipation. Thinks of taking a farm. Offers her his 
warmest attachment and sincerest friendship. . 234 

LETTER LI. — Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Can hardly forgive his neglecting to write her. Thinks 
the pursuits of a farmer more suitable for him than the 
Excise. 236 

LETTER LII. — Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Complains of the savage hospitality of a friend. Its 
consequences. Moralizes on the unhappy and thought- 
less career of man. 240 

LETTER LIIL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Defends himself against the reproach of unkindness. 
Urges her to call self-respect to aid her in defeating the 
petulance, the prejudices, or the weakness of her ac- 
quaintance 242 

LETTER LIV.— Clarinda to Sylvander. 
Thinks Mr Pattison possessed of the Demons of Avarice 



CONTENTS OF THE CORRESPONDENCE. 



PAGE 

and Impurity. Rejoices at being high in Sylyander's 
esteem. Young Beauties must not tempt him to forget 
her 274 



LETTER LV.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Has received his Excise appointment. Expects soon to 
leave town 252 

LETTER LVL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Is anxious about his worldly prospects. . . 253 

LETTER LYII.— Sylvander to Clarixda. 

His Publisher delays his departure. . . . 254 

LETTER LVIIL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 
Intends to write her often 256 

Verses addressed by Burns to Clarinda on leaving 
Edinburgh in April 1788, " Fair Empress of the Poet's 
Soul." 258 

LETTER LIX.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Cannot plead guilty to the accusation of perfidious 
treachery. Was not to blame in being the victim of 
Clarinda's charms. 259 

LETTER LX.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Has been out of health all winter. A conjuncture of 
events have caused him to err. Sends her the Song, 
" My Lovely Nancy." 261 

LETTER LXL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 
Encloses Stanzas on " Sensibility." . . . 263 

LETTER LXIL— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Writes him in behalf of a dying Girl who had loved him, 

" not wisely, but too well." 265 



r 



10 CONTENTS OF THE CORRESPONDENCE. 



LETTER LXIII.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Is deeply affected by the Girl's distress. Will afford 
her immediate relief. 266 

LETTER LXIV.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 
Encloses his Ballad on Queen Mary. . . . 268 

LETTER LXV.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 
Has altered the Stanzas on " Sensibility." . . 271 

LETTER LXVL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Sends Clarinda the three beautiful Songs, a Ae fond 
Kiss," " Behold the Hour," " Gloomy December." 272 

LETTER LXVIL— Clarinda to Sylvander. 

Takes an affecting farewell of him on leaving for Ja- 
maica. Gives parting advice. Is to sail in the same 
vessel he formerly intended crossing the Atlantic in. 275 

Pastoral composed by the Poet on Clarinda's departure 
for the West Indies in 1792, " My Nannie 's Awa." 278 

LETTER LXVIIL— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Is grieved that she has not informed him of her return 

to Europe. Wishes to renew their correspondence. 279 

LETTER LXIX.— Sylvander to Clarinda. 

Cannot write her an ordinary epistle of friendship. En- 
vies an old friend the power of serving her. Consoles 
himself by drinking her health in solitude and in com- 
pany. Implores the blessings of Heaven upon her. 281 



MEMOIR 



OF 



MRS M'LEHOSE. 



MEMOIR OE MRS M'LEHOSE. 



Mrs M'Lehose, whose maiden name was Agnes 
Craig, was born in Glasgow in April 1759. She 
was the daughter of Mr Andrew Craig, surgeon 
in that city — a gentleman of a good family. His 
brother was the Rev. William Craig, one of the 
ministers of Glasgow, and father of Lord Craig, 
a Judge of the Court of Session. The mother of 
Mrs M'Lehose was a daughter of the Rev. John 
M'Laurin, — minister of Luss, and afterwards of 
St David's, Glasgow, — well known as the author 
of a volume of sermons ; one of which, in particular, 
has always been viewed as a model of evangelical 
piety and pulpit eloquence. He was a brother of 
Colin M'Laurin,the celebrated mathematician and 
friend of Sir Isaac Newton. 

Of the early years of Agnes Craig but little is 
recorded. She was so delicate in infancy, that it 
was hardly expected she would survive child- 



14 MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 

hood. Yet, of four daughters and a son, she alone 
reached old age : all died in childhood except her 
sister Margaret, who, at the age of nineteen, be- 
came the wife of Captain Kennedy of Kailzie, 
and died about a year afterwards. The education 
of Agnes Craig was very incomplete, — as all fe- 
male education was at that period, compared with 
the numerous advantages possessed by young 
people of both sexes in the present day. All the 
education bestowed upon her was some very im- 
perfect instruction in English grammar, and that 
laborious idleness called sampler-work; even spell- 
ing was much neglected. The disadvantages 
attending such an education she afterwards fully 
perceived, and partially remedied at a period of 
life when many women neglect the attainments 
previously acquired, and but few persevere in the 
cultivation of further knowledge. 

Agnes lost her mother when she was only eight 
years old ; and her only surviving sister, Mrs 
Kennedy, dying about five years afterwards, she 
was deprived of that compensation for a mother's 
invaluable influence and superintendence, which 
might have been derived from an elder sister's 



MEMOIR OF MRS M c LEHOSE. 15 

counsels. Her mother's instructions, however, 
were not lost upon her ; for many years after- 
wards she referred with heartfelt gratitude to the 
benefit she derived from the religious principles 
instilled into her by her " sainted mother." 

Henceforward, till her marriage, she lived with 
her father,— except that, for half a year, when 
fifteen years old, she was sent to an Edinburgh 
boarding-school — a practice apparently prevalent 
in those days as well as now — to finish that 
education which could not be said to have been 
properly begun, and had no solid foundation. 
This circumstance originated an acquaintance 
which ended in her marriage. Even at this 
early age, she was considered one of the beauties 
of Glasgow, and was styled " the pretty Miss 
Nancy." Mr James M'Lehose, a young man of 
respectable connexions, and a law agent in that 
city, had been disappointed in getting introduced 
to her ; and when he learned that she was going 
to Edinburgh, he engaged all the seats in the 
stage-coach, excepting the one taken for her. At 
that period the coach took the whole day to per- 
form the journey between the two cities, stopping 



16 MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 

a considerable time for dinner on the road, which 
thus afforded Mr M'Lehose an excellent opportu- 
nity of making himself agreeable, — an opportunity 
which he took the utmost pains to improve, and 
with great success, being possessed of an agree- 
able and attractive person, and most insinuating 
manners. His deficiency of sound principle was 
hidden from general observation by great plausi- 
bility. After the return of " the pretty Miss 
Nancy" to Glasgow, Mr M'Lehose followed up 
the acquaintance thus commenced, by paying her 
the most assiduous attention, and thus succeeded 
in winning her affections. Being young and in- 
experienced, deprived of the counsels of a mother 
and sister, and attached to one whom she thought 
possessed of every virtue, and w T ho had shown so 
decided a partiality to her in a manner peculiarly 
calculated to please a romantic mind, — she fa- 
vourably received his addresses. 

In this she was not encouraged by her friends, 
who thought that her beauty, talents, 'and con- 
nexions, entitled her to a superior match. How- 
ever, she became Mrs M'Lehose in July 1776, 
being then only seventeen years of age, and her 



MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 17 

husband five years her senior. Their union, she 
always stated, was the result of disinterested 
affection on both sides. But this connexion proved 
the bane of her happiness, and the source of all 
her misfortunes. Married at so early an age, be- 
fore the vivacity of youth was passed, and, indeed, 
before it was fully developed, possessed of consi- 
derable personal attractions, a ready flow of wit, 
a keen relish for society, in which her conversa- 
tional powers fitted her to excel, and a strong love 
of admiration, she appears to have displeased her 
husband, because she could not at once forego 
those enjoyments so natural to her time of life 
and situation. And he, without any cause, seems 
to have conceived the most unworthy jealousy, 
which led him to treat her with a severity most 
injudicious, and, to one of her disposition, pro- 
ductive of the worst consequences. 

She soon discovered the mistaken estimate she 
had formed of her husband's character; and being 
of a high sanguine spirit, could ill brook the un- 
merited bad treatment she received. To use her 
own words, in a statement which she afterwards 
made for the advice of her friends — " Only a short 



18 MEMOIR OF MRS M 4 LEHOSE. 

time had elapsed ere I perceived, with inexpressible 
regret, that our dispositions, tempers, and senti- 
ments, were so totally different, as to banish all 
hopes of happiness. Our disagreements rose to 
such a height, and my husband's treatment was 
so harsh, that it was thought advisable by my 
friends a separation should take place : which ac- 
cordingly followed in December J 780." 

Mrs M'Lehose had at this period only two 
children living — having lost her first born. A 
fourth was born a few months after this separa- 
tion. Soon after this event, her husband took 
her infant children away from her, in the hopes 
of thereby working on her maternal feelings, and 
forcing a reunion which she had firmly refused, 
being convinced that they could not live happily 
together. She parted with her children with ex- 
treme reluctance — her father being both able and 
willing to maintain her and them ; while her hus- 
band had neglected his business, and entered into 
every species of dissipation, so that he became 
unable to maintain his children, and they were 
distributed among his relations, — the youngest 
infant being, as soon as possible, removed from 



MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 19 

the tender care of his mother, and committed to 
the charge of a hireling nurse. He even prohi- 
bited her from seeing the children, to whom he 
knew she was devotedly attached. It required 
the utmost fortitude, on her part, to bear this 
cruel deprivation ; but, by enduring it, she ren- 
dered her husband's cruel attempt abortive. All 
the children died young, except the late A. G. 
M'Lehose, W.S. 

Immediately after the separation, she had re- 
turned to her father's house with her children, 
where she remained till his death, in the year 1 782, 
two years afterwards. He judiciously left his pro- 
perty to be invested in an annuity for her behoof, 
.entirely independent of her husband, and beyond 
his control ; and feeling it unpleasant to remain 
in the same city with her husband and his rela- 
tions, and yet in a state of alienation, Mrs 
M'Lehose, by the advice of her friends, removed 
to Edinburgh in the same year, 1 782. 

Her husband followed her soon after, on his 
way to London, having formed an intention 
of going abroad. He solicited an interview in 
these terms — " Early to-morrow morning I leave 



20 MEMOIR OF MRS M^LEHOSE. 

this country for ever, and therefore wish much to 
pass one quarter of an hour with you. Upon my 
word of honour, my dearest Nancy, it is the last 
night you probably will ever have an opportunity 
of seeing me in this world." This appeal she re- 
fused for the following reasons : — " I consulted 
my friends : they advised me against seeing him ; 
and as I thought it could be productive of no 
good, I declined the interview." The treatment 
she received from her husband while living with 
him, must have been bad indeed, to make one of 
her forgiving disposition so unyielding ; and he 
seems to have been not altogether insensible to 
his misconduct : for, two years later, and just pre- 
vious to going abroad, he wrote to his wife — " For 
my own part, I am willing to forget what is past ; 
neither do I require any apology from you : for I 
am heartily sorry for those instances of my beha- 
viour to you which caused our separation. Were 
it possible to recall them, they should never be re- 
peated*" These feelings may have been sincere at 
the moment, but they had no depth or endurance. 
Soon after Mr M'Lehose went to London, in the 
year 1782, he wrote his wife a very reproachful 



MEMOIR OF MRS M c LEHOSE. 21 



letter, stating his intention of going abroad, and 
bidding her take her children home to her. In this 
letter he observed — " The sooner you return to 
Glasgow the better, and take under your care and 
protection those endearing pledges of our once- 
happier clays, as none of my friends will have any- 
thing to do with them." After speaking of his pro- 
spects of employment, he added — " Yet still, how- 
everremote myresidence maybe from you and those 
endearing infants, God forbid that I should be so 
destitute of natural affection for them, as to per- 
mit you or them, in the smallest degree, to be 
burdensome to any of your friends. On the con- 
trary, I shall at all times observe the strictest 
economy, and exert myself to the uttermost, so 
that I may be enabled to contribute to your ease 
and happiness. 1 '' 

It will be seen in the sequel how this fair promise 
was observed. The truth is, that as he could not 
prevail on his wife to live with him, even by de- 
priving her of her children to whom she was ten- 
derly attached, and his relations would no longer 
support him in idleness, or his children for his 

sake, their sympathy for him being blunted, if not 

b 2 



22 MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 

deadened, by his misconduct, — he thus contrived 
to throw the burden of them on his young wife, 
whose patrimonial income was very limited. Her 
situation at this trying period is thus related : — 
" The income left me by my father being barely 
sufficient to board myself, I was now distressed 
how to support my three infants. With my 
spirits sunk in deep dejection, I went to Glasgow 
to see them. I found arrears due for their board* 
This I paid ; and the goodness of some worthy 
gentlemen in Glasgow procuring me a small an- 
nuity from the writers, and one from the surgeons, 
I again set out for Edinburgh with them in 
August 1 782 ; and, by the strictest economy, 
made my little income go as far as possible. The 
deficiency was always supplied by some worthy 
benevolent friends, whose kindness no time can 
erase from my grateful heart." 

When Mrs M'Lehose settled in Edinburgh in 
1 782, though comparatively a stranger, her youth, 
beauty, and misfortunes, and, above all, her ex- 
emplary conduct, procured for her the friendship, 
not only of her own relations, but of many respect- 
able families, till then unknown to her, from whom 



MEMOIR OF MRS M ; LEHOSE. 23 

she received many substantial proofs of kindness. 
Thus, though deprived of his assistance, to which 
she had the most sacred claim, she had much rea- 
son to bless God for his goodness in raising up so 
many friends. Among these friends, Lord Craig,*" 
her cousin-german, then an advocate at the Scot- 
tish bar, is particularly deserving of mention. He 
befriended her from her first arrival in Edinburgh, 
and continued, during his life, her greatest bene- 

* Lord Craig was the eldest son of the Rev. Dr Craig of 
Glasgow, and was born in the year 1745. He passed advocate 
in 1768 ; and after filliog the offices of Depute-advocate and 
Sheriff-depute of Ayrshire, he was raised to the bench in 1792, 
and succeeded Lord Henderland as Lord Commissioner of Jus- 
ticiary in 1795. He died in 1813. 

The Scots Magazine of that year says of him, u As a judge he 
was highly honourable and upright — endowed with persevering 
talents and a complete knowledge of his profession. Few men 
despatched more business with greater precision than Lord 
Craig. 

" When at the bar, though considered an able counsel, his 
practice never was extensive — he was rather remarkable as a 
man attached to the Belles Lettres. He wrote more papers in 
the Mirror and Lounger than any other contributor except 
Henry Mackenzie. 

" In private life he was gentle, affable, and unassuming, and 
in an eminent degree hospitable and benevolent. He pos- 
sessed the warm esteem of a select circle of friends, to whom he 
was extremely attached." 



24 MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 

factor. Mrs M'Lehose consulted him on all occa- 
sions of difficulty ; and when deprived of the an- 
nuities from Glasgow, soon after her husband set- 
tled in Jamaica, on account of his ability to main- 
tain his children himself, Lord Craig generously 
continued them, and made up the deficiencies of 
her income. At his death he left her an annuity, 
and made her son residuary legatee. Besides 
these substantial acts of kindness, she enjoyed his 
friendship, and was a frequent visiter at his house, 
where the best literary society of Edinburgh used 
to assemble. 

During Mrs M'Lehose's early residence in Edin- 
burgh, when she had not joined that social circle 
of which she soon became an ornament, she devoted 
much time and attention to remedying the defects 
of her early education. She improved her taste by 
the study of the best English authors, and became 
proficient in English composition. Possessed of a 
most retentive memory, she often quoted aptly 
from those authors, both in conversation and in 
her correspondence, which afterwards became ex- 
tensive, and in which she excelled. It is to be 
regretted that so little of that correspondence has 



MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 25 

been preserved ; but Mrs M'Lehose having sur- 
vived nearly all the friends of her early life, ap- 
plications made in quarters where it was supposed 
her letters might have been preserved, have been 
unsuccessful. 

It was at this period, also, that Mrs M ; Lehose 
began cultivating the Muses. She produced many 
short poetical effusions, a few of which have been 
preserved and are inserted in this volume. Her 
earliest composition was an " Address to a Black- 
bird,"" which she heard singing on a tree near her 
residence, in the neighbourhood of a spot where 
St Margaret's Convent has since been placed. 
The ideas, she stated, came into her mind like in- 
spiration. 

In the rearing and education of her children 
she took great delight ; and the society of the 
many friends she acquired yielded her constant 
enjoyment for a long series of years, until the 
progress of time thinned their ranks, and increas- 
ing years and infirmities made her, in some de- 
gree, willing to relinquish social intercourse, of 
which she was so fond, for the retirement befit- 
ting old age. Among the literary men who used 



26 MEMOIR OF MRS M ; LEHOSE. 

to visit her, Thomas Campbell, who was then 
prosecuting his studies at the University; the 
amiable Graham, the author of the " Sabbath ;" 
James Gray, author of " Cuna of Cheyd," and 
" The Sabbath among the Mountains ;" and 
Robert Ainslie, the friend of Burns, author of 
various religious works addressed to the young, 
and of a series of political letters, — may be enu- 
merated. This gentleman proved throughout life 
a w r arm and steady friend. He was an original 
visiter at Mrs M'Lehose's New- Year parties, which 
were kept up for about forty years, and are still 
remembered by several of the younger guests for 
their great conviviality, to which the liveliness 
and vivacity of the hostess greatly contributed. 

Towards the end of the year 1787, Robert 
Burns was introduced to Mrs M ; Lehose, in the 
house of a mutual friend, Miss Nimmo. They 
spent the evening together; and we have the 
sentiments recorded by both parties of the im- 
pressions reciprocally produced. The poet de- 
clared, in one of his letters to her, " Of all God's 
creatures I ever could approach in the beaten way 
of friendship, you struck me with the deepest, 



MEMOIR OF MRS M 6 LEHOSE. 27 

the strongest, the most permanent impression." 
While she wrote : — " Miss Nimmo can tell you 
how earnestly I had long pressed her to make us 
acquainted. I had a presentiment that w r e would 
derive pleasure from the society 'of each other." 
The poet' was at this time preparing to depart 
from Edinburgh; and, under these circumstances, 
could only regret that he had not possessed the 
opportunity of cultivating the lady's acquain- 
tance earlier; but a severe accident, which happen- 
ed a day or two later, when he was engaged to 
spend the evening with her, delayed his departure 
for some time, and led to a correspondence, in 
which Mrs M'Lehose fancifully adopted the name 
of " Clarinda," and Burns followed up the idea 
by signing " Sylvander." As soon as he recovered 
from his accident, the poet visited the lady, and 
they enjoyed much of each other's society for 
several months, till he left Edinburgh. They 
met only once afterwards, in the year 1791, — but 
occasionally corresponded till within a short period 
of his death. 

When Mr M'Lehose went to London in 1782, 
he found too many opportunities for indulging in 



28 MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 

dissipation and extravagance to go abroad so long 
as he was able to procure money from his family 
in Scotland, — assistance which they could ill af- 
ford, and were obliged, finally, to refuse, their 
patience and generosity being exhausted. After 
two years and a half thus spent in idleness, Mr 
M'Lehose was thrown into prison for debt; and 
his relatives, being once more appealed to, con- 
sented to advance the funds necessary for his re- 
lease and outfit, on condition that he immediately 
went abroad. With this he complied, and sailed 
for Jamaica, in November ] 784. Before leaving 
London, and afterwards from Jamaica, where he 
became very prosperous, he wrote his mother and 
family most grateful letters for their kindness, but 
never repaid the debt, though appealed to, when his 
mother's income became inadequate to her support. 
Mr M'Lehose did not favour his wife even with 
grateful letters ; though she wrote him repeatedly 
respecting her circumstances and the health of their 
children. The following appeal to him, from Lord 
Craig, was equally fruitless : — " I write you this 
letter to represent to you the situation of your fa- 
mily here. Your wife's father left some property in 



MEMOIR OF MRS M ; LEHOSE. 29 

Glasgow, the interest of which your wife draws for 
the support of herself and children ; but this not 
being sufficient, by the solicitation of some of your 
friends ^8 a-year was obtained from the surgeons, 
and i?10 a-year from the writers in Glasgow. 
Even this, however, did not do, owing to the great 
rise in the expense of housekeeping, and the ne- 
cessary outlay for your children, and their educa- 
tion ; so that I advanced money to Mrs M., even 
while she got the above sums. Accounts, I am 
informed, have lately arrived from Jamaica which 
I am very glad of, representing you to be in a 
very good situation, and as having got into very 
profitable business. The surgeons and writers 
have withdrawn their allowance ; and I have been 
told their principal reason for doing so, is the 
accounts they have heard of the goodness of your 
situation. No remittances, however, have, as yet, 
come from you ; and in this last year, owing to 
the withdrawal of the writers and surgeons, I 
have paid Mrs M'Lehose upwards of i?30 above 
what I have received. No person, except my 
brother, is willing to contribute anything; and all 
your own relations have positively refused, from 



SO MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 

the beginning, to contribute a single farthing. In 
this situation I am resolved to advance no more 
money out of my own funds on the account of 
your family. What I have already given, I have 
never laid my account in being reimbursed, and 
it shall never more be thought of; but for the 
future, every consideration demands that you 
should yourself contribute for the support of your 
own children. I expect, therefore, that you will, 
by the first opportunity, write to some of your cor- 
respondents in this country, giving what directions 
you think proper about your children, and making 
some proper remittance on their account; as, I 
repeat it again, I am determined not to continue 
to pay money on their account." 

In Mrs M'Lehose's narrative she states :— 
M About the year 1787, my youngest boy William 
fell into ill health. This increased my expense ; 
and, at this period, the annuities from Glasgow were 
withheld from me ; the reason assigned being, that 
Mr M'Lehose was doing well, and in a way to sup- 
port his children himself. I wrote once more to 
him, giving him an account of his children, parti- 
cularly of William's helpless situation, and also my 



MEMOIR OF MRS M ; LEHOSE. 81 

reduced circumstances, warmly expostulating with 

him on the duty and necessity of remitting for their 
support and education. I anxiously waited for an 
answer, but received none. In August 1 790, my 
delicate child was happily delivered from his suf- 
ferings. I wrote again immediately of his death, 
Still I received no answer till the following Au- 
gust, when I had a letter, and, soon after, an- 
other, inviting me to come out to Jamaica, and 
enclosing a bill for £50, which was meant, I sup- 
pose, to equip me ; and containing the most flat- 
tering directions to give his only surviving son 
the best education Edinburgh would afford."'"' 

M With regard to mv dear son."' Mr M-Lehose 
writes. " it is my wish that he should be placed in 
the first boarding-school for young gentlemen* 
either in Edinburgh or its environs : whatever 
expense may attend it, shall be regularly and 
punctually paid. It is my wish that he should 
continue at the Latin until he is perfect master 
of that language ; and, when that is accomplished, 
I wish him to be instructed in the French, which 
is now become so generally useful all over the 
globe, and, in particular, here, where I intend to 



32 MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 

fix him in business. It will be proper, also, that 
he be immediately put under a dancing-master ; 
and, what is still more requisite, that he should 
learn to fence. No expense can be incurred 
that will not be discharged with infinite pleasure 
and satisfaction, provided he is to benefit by it as l 
I could wish. If you have no inclination to come 
out to this country, I then have to request you to 
embrace the first opportunity to inform me of 
such determination ; as in that case I will immedi- 
ately order my son up to London, and put him 
under the care of one of the first West India 
houses in the city, to receive the remainder of his 
education either at Westminster or at Eton, 
whichever they think most advisable." 

Mrs M'Lehose w T as much at a loss how to act. 
At first she felt strongly inclined to remain in this 
country, but finally resolved to proceed to Ja- 
maica. " I consulted my friends ; they declined 
giving any advice, and referred me to my own 
mind. After much agitation, and deep and anx- 
ious reflection for my only child's sake, for whom 
he promised such liberal things, and encouraged 
by flattering accounts of his character and con- 



MEMOIR OF MRS M ; LEHOSE. do 

duct in Jamaica, I resolved to undertake the ar- 
duous voyage." 

The motives which influenced her will best 
be seen from the letter which she wrote to her 
friend Lord Craig, upon the subject. " When 
' I wrote you last, the bidding adieu to my clear 
boy was my only source of anxiety. I had then 
no idea whatever of going out to Mr M'Lehose. 
Next day 1 learned from Mrs Adair that Captain 
Liddel told her my husband had the strongest 
resolution of using me kindly, in case I accepted 
of his invitation ; and that pride alone hindered 
his acknowledging his faults a second time, 
still hurt at my not answering his overtures of 
reconciliation from London. But that, in case 
I did not choose to come over, I might rest as- 
sured I never would hear from him while he ex- 
isted. Captain Liddel added his opinion, that I 
ought to go, in the strongest terms. Mrs Adair 
joins him ; and, above all, my poor boy adds his 
entreaties most earnestly. I thought it prudent 
to inform him, for the first time, of the disagree- 
ment between his parents, and the unhappy jeal- 
ousy in his father's temper. Still he argues that 



34 MEMOIR OP MRS M'LEHOSE. 

his father may be incensed at my refusal. If I 
go I have a terror of the sea, and no less of the 
climate ; above all, the horror of again involving 
myself in misery in the midst of strangers, and 
almost without remedy. If I refuse, I must bid 
my only child (in whom all my affections and 
hopes are entirely centred) adieu for ever ; struggle 
with a straitened income and the world's censure 
solitary and unprotected. The bright side of these 
alternatives is, that if I go. my husband's jealousy 
of temper may be abated, from a better knowledge 
of the world ; and time and misfortunes, by mak- 
ing alterations both on person and vivacity, will 
render me less likely to incur his suspicions ; and 
that ill humour, which partly arose from strait- 
ened fortune, will be removed by affluence. I 
will enjoy my son's society, and have him for a 
friend ; and who knows what effect so fine a boy 
may have on a father long absent from his sight. 
If I refuse, and stay here, I shall continue to en- 
joy a circle of kind, respectable friends. Though 
my income be small, I can never be in want ; and 
I shall maintain that liberty which, after nine 
years' enjoyment, I shall find it hard to forego, 



MEMOIR OF MRS M c LEHOSE. .>? 

even to the degree to which I am sensible every 
married woman must submit." 

A few days later she wrote again to the same 
gentleman. " On Friday last I went down to 
Leith, and had a conversation on" board the Ro- 
lelle with Captain Liddel. He told me that Mr 
M'Lehose had talked of me, and of my coming over, 
with great tenderness ; and said, it would be my 
fault if we did not enjoy great happiness ; and con- 
cluded with assuring me, if I were his own child 
he would advise me to go out. This conversation 
has tended greatly to decide my accepting my hus- 
band's invitation. I have done what you desired 
me, — weighed coolly (as coolly as a subject so in- 
teresting would permit) all I have to suffer or 
expect in either situation ; and the result is. my 
u'oing to Jamaica. This appears to me the pre- 
ferable choice : it is surely the path of duty ; and 
as such, I may look for the blessing of God to 
attend my endeavours for happiness with him who 
was the husband of my choice, and the father of 
my children. On Saturday I was agreeably sur- 
prised by a call from Mr Kemp. He had received 
my letter that morning at Glasgow, and had 



36 MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 

alighted for a few minutes, on his way to Easter 
Duddingston, where his family are for summer 
quarters. He was much affected with my per- 
plexing situation. Like you, he knew not how 
to decide, and left me, promising to call early this 
day, which he has done. I told him of the meet- 
ing with Mr Liddel, and enumerated all the argu- 
ments which I had thought of on both sides of 
the question. What Mr Liddel (who is a man of 
known worth) said to me weighed much with him ; 
and he, too, is now of opinion my going to Jamaica 
is advisable. He gave me much good advice as to 
my conduct towards Mr M'Lehose, and promised 
to write him himself. Your letter luckily arrived 
while he was with me. The assurance of my little 
income being secured me, not a little adds both to 
his opinion of the propriety of my going, and to 
my ease and comfort, in case (after doing all I 
can) it should prove impossible to enjoy that peace 
which I so earnestly pant after ; and I would fain 
hope for a tender reception. After ten years'* separ- 
ation, and the sacrifice I make of bidding adieu 
(probably for ever) to my friends and my coun- 
try — indeed, I am much depressed in mind — 



MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 37 

should I escape the sea, the climate may prove 
fatal to me ; but should it happen so, I have the 
satisfaction to think I shall die in attempting to 
attain happiness in that path of duty which Pro- 
vidence and a succession of events seem to point 
out for the best. You, my dear kind benefactor, 
have had much trouble with me first and last ; 
and though others appear ungrateful, neither time 
nor absence can ever erase from my heart the re- 
membrance of your past kindness. My prayers 
shall ascend for the reward of heaven upon your 
head ! To-morrow I am to write to my husband. 
Mr Kemp is to see it on Wednesday. If any 
person occurs to you as proper to place Andrew 
with in Edinburgh, let me know— the sooner the 
better : the hopes of his rejoining me will help to 
console my mind in the midst of strangers. I am 4 
sorry you are to be so long of coming to town. 
Meantime I shall be glad to hear from you : for I 
am, my dear Sir, in every possible situation, your 
affectionate and obliged friend, A. M." 

" I accordingly wrote my husband in October 
1791, acquainting him with my resolution of for- 
getting past differences, and throwing myself on 



88 MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 

his protection. 1 " AstheRoselledid not leave for Ja- 
maica till spring, she again wrote him in December. 
After giving the details of the arrangements 
she had made for their son's education, in com- 
pliance with his instructions, she thus proceeds : 
— " I had occasion to be in Glasgow lately for 
two days only. I called for your mother. I felt 
much for her — bereaved of so many children. 
The peculiar circumstances which attended poor 
Annie's death affected me excessively. They told 
me you had not written these three years past ; 
but I assured them (and I hope it is the case) 
that your letters must have miscarried, as I could 
not believe you capable of such unkind ne- 
glect. I am certain, inclination, no less than duty, 
must ever prompt you to pay attention to your 
.mother. She has met with many and sore afflic- 
tions ; and I feel for her the most sincere sympathy." 
In the same letter, she adds: — "I have met with 
much kindness since I came to Edinburgh, from a 
set of most agreeable and respectable friends. No 
ideas of wealth or splendour could compensate for 
the pain I shall feel in bidding them adieu. Nothing 
could support me but the fond reliance I have of 



MEMOIR OF MRS M c LEHOSE. 39 

gaining your affections and confidence. To possess 
these is the dearest wish of my heart ; and I trust 
the Almighty will grant this my ardent desire. I 
would fain hope to hear from you ere we sail ; a 
kind letter from you would prove a balm to my 
soul during the anxieties of a tedious voyage. " 

Mrs M'Lehose sailed from Leith in February 
1792, and arrived at Kingston in April following. 
The day before her departure she received a letter 
from her fickle husband, dissuading her from going 
out, on the pretence that the yellow fever prevailed 
in the island, and that a revolt had taken place 
among the negroes ; both of which statements 
were false. But, having taken leave of her friends, 
engaged her passage, and made the preparations 
which the expectation of an absence, prolonged 
perhaps for years, required, she resolved (un- 
wisely, as the event proved) to proceed. It is a 
curious coincidence that the vessel she sailed in 
was the " Roselle," the same in which Burns in- 
tended to have sailed for the same destination a 
few years earlier. 

Mrs M'Lehose suffered much from the voyage, 
especially in the warmer latitudes ; and when 



40 MEMOIR OF MRS M c LEHOSE. 

she reached Kingston, her husband did not go 
down to the ship for a length of time. All the 
other lady passengers had been speedily joined by 
their friends. When he came, he was very cold, 
and seemed far from being glad to see his wife ; 
and even in this interview, before they left the 
ship, he used some harsh expressions towards her 
in presence of the captain and others, which 
wounded her feelings much. 

" As my constitution never agreed with heat, 
I felt its bad effects as soon as we had crossed the 
Line ; but the very cold reception I received from 
Mr M'Lehose on landing, gave me a shock which, 
joined to the climate, deranged my mind to such 
a degree as made me not answerable for what I 
either said or did. My husband^ after-kindness 
could not remove the complication of nervous dis- 
orders which seized me. They increased to such 
a height that Dr Fife, the professional gentleman 
who attended me, and whose soothing manner I 
can never forget, was of opinion my going home 
was absolutely necessary — otherwise my reason, 
if not my life, would fall a sacrifice. Accordingly, 
in June I took leave of Mr M'Lehose, and re- 



MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 41 

turned home in the ship I had gone out in. Our 
parting was most affectionate. On my part, it 
was with sincere regret that my health obliged me 
to leave him. Upon his, it was to all appearance 
equally so. However, we parted with mutual pro- 
mises of constancy, and of keeping up a regular 
correspondence. After getting into cool air, I 
gradually recovered my health." 

There were other reasons for leaving Jamaica 
besides those which she mentioned in the state- 
ment just quoted. Mr M'Lehose, like most 
West Indian planters, had a family by a coloured 
mistress. This could not be otherwise than 
a source of mortification and annoyance. The 
ebullition of temper which he had exhibited to- 
wards her on their first meeting, was a prelude 
to more violent outbreaks, which, though not al- 
ways directed to her personally, paralyzed her 
with fear. His slaves were generally the objects 
of these fits of wrath ; and seeing that his wife 
pitied their abject condition, he took pleasure in 
threatening and abusing them in her presence. 

Circumstances were thus most unfavourable to 
Mrs M'Lehose's stay in Jamaica ; but, had they 



42 MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 

been propitious, she was ill calculated to endure a 
permanent change of habits. That she was un- 
doubtedly very unhappy in the West Indies, may 
be gathered from the following extract from 
her Journal many years afterwards: — "Recol- 
lect that 1 arrived in Jamaica this day twenty- 
two years. What I suffered during the three 
months I remained there ! Lord make me grate- 
ful for thy goodness in bringing me back to my 
native country!" 

Mrs M'Lehose arrived in Edinburgh in Au- 
gust 1792, and soon after resumed housekeep- 
ing, and took home her son, who had been 
placed at Dr Chapman's excellent boarding- 
school. The first year had now expired, without 
any part of the expense being defrayed by his 
father ; and the debt was ultimately cancelled by 
the liberality of Lord Craig. As Mr M'Lehose 
continued thus utterly to neglect his wife and son, 
she was prevailed on by her friends to institute 
proceedings against him before the Court of Ses- 
sion, in order to enforce these obligations. In 
March 1797, accordingly, she obtained a judgment 
of the Court, ordaining him to pay her a yearly 



MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 43 

aliment of i?100 sterling. From that judgment 
the following is an extract ; — " In the close of the 
year ] 784, Mr M'Lehose settled as an attorney-at- 
law, in Kingston, Jamaica; and business increased 
so rapidly, that he was soon in possession of, and 
.still enjoys a revenue of iPlOOO a-year from his 
profession." 

This decree, however, owing to Mr M'Lehose 
being resident in Jamaica, did not add to Mrs 
M'Lehose's income ; although it was the means 
ultimately of enabling her to recover, in this 
country, some funds belonging to her husband. 

Thus abandoned by her husband, Mrs M'Lehose 
and her only son, the late Mr Andrew M'Lehose, 
W.S., continued to live together. Soon after her 
return from Jamaica, Mr Robert Ainslie the 
friend of Burns, kindly took her son as ap- 
prentice. He continued to live with his mother 
until the year 1809, when he married. They 
lived most happily together ; and probably there 
have been few instances of more devoted mutual 
attachment between parent and child. 

In March 1812, Mr M'Lehose died at Kings- 
ton; and, though he had been in receipt of a 



44 

large income for many years, as Chief Clerk of 
the Court of Common Pleas in Jamaica, no funds 
were ever received from that island by his family. 
A report reached this country, as being a matter 
of notoriety in Kingston, that some of his parti- 
cular friends had, on the approach of death, sent 
all his domestics out of the house ; and, as soon 
as the breath quitted his body, carried off what- 
ever cash and documents there were. If so, the 
friends proved befitting the man. Notice, how- 
ever, was given to Mrs M'Lehose that a balance 
of several hundred pounds, belonging to her hus- 
band, was in the hands of Messrs Coutts in Lon- 
don, which she soon afterwards obtained. 

It was then discovered that he had had an account 
current at this bank for many years, while he had 
suffered his family to have their income eked out 
by the generosity of friends : i?50 advanced to her, 
as already mentioned, before she sailed for Jamaica, 
and a present of i?21 on leaving that island, being 
all which this wealthy husband bestowed on his 
family in the long period of thirty-two years. Yet, 
after her departure from Jamaica, he was in the 
habit of speaking of his family with great affection, 



MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 45 

and boasted of the valuable presents which he had 
made his wife and son. It is believed that few men 
have passed through life outwardly so respected 
by society, who have more basely neglected all the 
ties of affection and duty. He was a man of good 
talents and very pleasing address ; much given to 
an ostentatious kind of hospitality. His temper was 
occasionally most violent and ungovernable ; often 
soft and agreeable. His written correspondence 
with his wife partakes of the same character : the 
same letter containing alternate passages of the 
most endearing expressions and most insulting 
language. 

Though Mrs M'Lehose survived her husband 
the long period of twenty-nine years, there are few 
or no incidents of any general interest in her 
after-life. Her best friend and benefactor, Lord 
Craig, died in 1813 ; and it was her fate not only 
to survive most of the friends of her middle life, 
but to see all her son's family, except one grand- 
son, (the present editor,) pass away before her to 
the grave. Her son himself died suddenly in April 
1839, having been predeceased by his wife and 
two children. After this event, Mrs M'Lekose's 

c2 



46 MEMOIR OF MRS M c LEHOSE. 

memory, which had begun to decline several years 
before, failed very much. Her other mental fa- 
culties were not so much affected, and her health 
and strength continued good, — so much so, that 
she was able to enjoy, till shortly before her 
death, her favourite walk round the Calton Hill. 
A lady, (widow of the late Commissary-general 
Moodie, of Van Diemen's Land,) who, with her 
sister, made the acquaintance of Mrs M'Lehose 
at a very late period of her life, and both of whom 
paid her much kind attention, has favoured the 
editor with some observations from her Journal, 
from which the following extracts are made : — 

" Edinburgh, 10th March, 1841. — I have been 
interested by nothing more in this Queen of Cities, 
with its 6 palaces and towers, ' than by poor 
Burns' Monument. It is pleasant, in the land of 
his nativity, to find the bard of nature, and of all 
time, in full possession of that ' posthumous 
fame ' which it was his delight to contemplate 
in life, and to which he was confident his genius 
would entitle him. An accidental circumstance, 
improved by my curiosity, (which I beg leave to 



MEMOIR OF MRS M c LEHOSE. 47 

dignify by denominating literary,) has brought me 
acquainted with 'one who was the friend and cor- 
respondent of the poet. This is the celebrated 
c 0^1^,' who still lives, at the advanced age 
of eighty-two, near the Calton Hill. I have had 
many opportunities of conversing with her. Her 
memory is greatly impaired ; and being also a 
little deaf, and seldom now quitting her house, 
common occurrences have ceased to interest her : 
even the affairs of the Kirk, which at present 
agitate and divide all Scotland from John o'Groat's 
to the Border, make no impression on her mind. 
But it is satisfactory to observe how much re- 
mains in that mind to cheer the hours of soli- 
tude, and to give consolation to the close of a life 
prolonged beyond the common lot. 

" 30th March, 1841. — Owing to sickness in 
my family I did not see Mrs M'Lehose for a short 
time. When I called, I found this interesting 
old lady much altered in appearance, though not 
in spirits. She lives in great simplicity, and is 
very sensible of the great blessing of health. 

" June, 1841. — I still see her with interest ; 
for, although her memory is much weakened by 



48 MEMOIR OF MRS M c LEHOSE. 

time, and the severe shock she suffered about two 
years ago in the sudden death of her son, yet her 
state is far from that of second childhood. She 
is perfectly conscious that her intellectual powers 
are much abridged. She remarked upon the loss 
of her memory, — ' It was the strongest organ I 
possessed : therefore, having been so much exer- 
cised, it is no wonder it has taken leave the first." 
" Although her memory is gone as to daily 
occurrences, yet her recollection is extraordinary 
as to past events, particularly in reciting anec- 
dotes in verse in order to illustrate the conversa- 
tion,— the subject of which she never misappre- 
hends, whether lively or serious. Indeed, her 
mind is still the receptacle of fine thoughts, — and 
in conversation with one person, she is always 
ready, and never misapplies a quotation when the 
subject requires one. When there are many in 
the room, she becomes confused, and seems to take 
no part in the conversation ; by reason, I think, 
of her deafness, more than any defect of under- 
standing. Her piety is beautifully illustrated in 
her allusions to the Scriptures; and her memory 
is tenacious in reciting the Paraphrases. Speak- 



MEMOIR OF MRS M c LEHOSE. 49 

ing of old age, she observed 6 on the loss each 
year sustains,*' but she immediately added, as if 
recollecting that injustice might thereby be im- 
puted to the Almighty, — 

He gives, and when He takes away 
He takes but what He gave. 

She also quoted the tenth verse of the ninetieth 
Psalm, with great accuracy and emphasis. Even 
her conversation on religious subjects has been so 
entirely from the heart, that we have always en- 
joyed the subjects that led that way. She often 
expresses her thankfulness for the faithful atten- 
dance of her excellent servant, who is devoted to 
4 the mistress,' to whom she is now indebted for 
all her earthly comfort, and who is consequently 
much beloved and trusted by her. 1 '' 

"22c? October, 1841.— Our old friend, Mrs 
M'Lehose, died this morning. She is gone, and 
I fully believe to her rest : for she was humble, 
and relied for acceptance upon the atonement. It 
has been a source of satisfaction to us to witness 
the composure of the last days of ' Clarinda.' To 
some who saw this old lady latterly, the apathy of 
age, and the loss of memory, gave the idea of 



50 MEMOIR OF MRS M c LEHOSE. 

greater feebleness of mind than was really the 
case. There were intervals in which she was 
still capable of a degree of mental exercise ; and 
corresponding sentiments often served to elicit 
something of that mental activity for which she 
had been remarkable. We have frequently found 
her very collected and clear upon subjects which 
interested her. I had the blessing of prayer with 
her frequently ; and on the day of her death I 
prayed by her bedside, but she could not join : 
she only pressed my hand, and said, ' I am much 
obliged to you.' She went off peacefully . Amongst 
her last words were, ' I go to Jesus.*' When her 
faithful servant said to her, ; Do you fear death ? 1 
she answered, ' Not so much now.' After a short 
time she felt very cold, and, pressing her servant's 
hands, exclaimed, ' Margaret ! Margaret ! ' and 
expired. 

" I shall ever feel that my sister and myself have 
been highly favoured, in being considered by this 
old lady as a source of comfort in her last days, 
as her note to me, written ten days before 
her death, testifies. c My dear Mrs Moodie, 
I am wearying to see you. Do give me a call. 



MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 51 

I am very poorly. I shall never forget your great 
kindness to me, and your being a stranger. I 
can give you no return, but my earnest wish that 
God may bless you and your little ones. May 
they be spared to you for a blessing, and at last 
may they be heirs of glory, is the wish and prayers 
of your earnest friend, A. M. Oct. 12, 1841/" 
This was written in a firm, distinct hand. 

Of Mrs M'Lehose's appearance in early life, it 
has already been recorded that she was considered 
one of the beauties of Glasgow. The editor's per- 
sonal recollection does not extend beyond her 
middle life. She was short in stature ; her hands 
and feet small and delicate ; her skin fair, with a 
ruddy colour in her cheeks, which she retained to 
the end of her life ; her eyes were lively, and 
evinced great vivacity ; her teeth well formed, 
and beautifully white ; her voice was soft and 
pleasing. Mrs M'Lehose's perceptive talents were 
not so good as her powers of reflection. Her 
judgment was often misled by her imagination, or 
biassed by the keenness of her feelings ; but she 
read much ; and having an excellent memory, and 



52 MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 

exercising sound reflection, she made the know- 
ledge thus acquired her own. Her observation on 
the world around her was constant and acute, and 
she formed a true appreciation of her own posi- 
tion. But her sensitiveness was too great ; her 
natural vivacity was strong, and when she gave 
full play to it in society, next day's reflection 
made her construe slight deviations, on her own 
part especially, and sometimes in others, into 
grave offences, for which she felt undue regret. 
She was very fond of society, and took a lead in 
it from her vivacity and ready wit ; but when 
there were many strangers, she kept in the back- 
ground. It seemed to require the fostering en- 
couragement of those who had already shown an 
appreciation of her conversational powers to ex- 
cite her to the exercise of them. 

For thirty or forty years, it is believed she was in 
company five days out of seven ; and when later 
vears thinned the ranks of her friends, and dimin- 
ished the number of her invitations, it was with 
great difficulty she became reconciled to a more re- 
tired mode of life. As her feelings were naturally 
strong, so were her attachments. She always con- 



MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 53 

sidered ingratitude as one of the basest of sins. She 
would have been a devoted wife, had it not been 
her misfortune to be united to a man utterly in- 
capable of appreciating her, or of affording her 
happiness. 

As a mother, she was fond and indulgent ; and 
the only son who was spared to her, was the ob- 
ject of her warmest affections and most tender 
solicitude. Nor did her attachment to her friends 
cease with their lives. She cherished their me- 
mory when gone, and, in several instances, pays a 
tribute to their virtues, or the recollection of for- 
mer happy meetings, in her Journal, many years 
afterwards. As an example, her notices of Burns 
may be quoted : — 

" 25th Jan., 1815. — Burns' birth-day. — A great 
dinner at Oman's. Should like to be there, an 
invisible spectator of all said of that great genius." 

" 6tk Dec, 1831. — This day I never can forget. 
Parted with Burns in the year 1791, never more 
to meet in this world. — Oh, may we meet in Hea- 
ven!" 

Indeed, this habit Mrs M'Lehose indulged in 
to excess. It so happened that she had lost most 



54 MEMOIR OF MRS M'LEHOSE. 

of her relations in the month of March, which she 
therefore considered an unlucky month ; and an- 
nually recorded the deaths, with such observations 
as show that she did not permit the soothing in- 
fluence of time to efface the bitterness of past and 
unavailing sorrows. 



INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE 



SYLVANDER AND CLARINM. 



INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE 



SYLVANDER AND CLARINDA. 



Much misapprehension and prejudice seem to 
have prevailed respecting the nature of the ac- 
quaintance of Burns with Mrs M'Lehose. A po r- 
tion of his letters having been surreptitiously print- 
ed many years ago, — in the absence of the lady's 
letters, which are now first published, — the worst 
construction was put on those passages which the 
Poet had written in moments of excitement or un- 
guardedness. Yet the raptures, flights, and sen- 
timents of two such minds, cannot be understood 
or appreciated without making allowances for their 
deviations from the ordinary track of common- 
place intercourse. A glance at the various cir- 
cumstances in the previous life of each, will show 
much that was calculated to attract the strongest 
mutual sympathies, in beings of so susceptible a 
nature. 



58 INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

To understand the line of propriety chalked out 
by the parties themselves, the feelings called forth 
by their occasional deviations from this self-pre- 
scribed boundary, and the caution observed by 
them — especially by the lady — as to their friends' 
and neighbours 1 opinions and surmises respecting 
their intercourse, — it is necessary to consider the 
relative situation of Burns and Clarinda at the 
period of their acquaintance, as well as the habits 
and manners of the time and place. 

It was towards the close of the year 1787, when 
Burns had made up his mind immediately to leave 
Edinburgh, that he spent the evening with Mrs 
M'Lehose in the house of a mutual friend, in 
Alison Square, Potterrow. Powerfully impressed 
with the sprightly and intelligent character of 
the lady, he could, in these circumstances, only 
regret that he had not made her acquaintance 
at an earlier period ; but an accident prevented 
his departure at the time he had appointed, which 
was afterwards still further delayed from other 
causes. During the tedious confinement occa- 
sioned by this accident, he cultivated the lady's 



INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 59 

acquaintance by correspondence ; and, as soon as 
he was able to go out, visited her. 

At this period, the first edition of his poems, 
published in Edinburgh, had been eminently suc- 
cessful, — producing considerable fame, and an 
amount of funds which, compared with his pre- 
vious circumstances, must have seemed riches. 
He had been also introduced to circles of talent 
and acquirements, rank and fashion, which, in his 
original situation, he never could have hoped to 
see. But such unequal intercourse necessarily 
exposes the inferior to occasional caprice. Burns 
had some experience of this ; and, as he always 
had a particular jealousy of people richer or higher 
than himself, he must have felt deeply mortified. 

Again, with his ardent temperament, he could 
not but fall in love with some of the elegant youno- 
ladies he met with in these circles ; and comparino- 
their cultivated charms with those of his former 
loves, he seems to have felt a desire to possess one 
for a wife ; but his inferior rank, unsettled circum- 
stances, and, above all, his equivocal " certificate 
as a bachelor," presented an unsurmountable bar- 
rier. It is evident, that at this time he considered 



60 INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

himself free of all legal and moral obligation to 
Jean Armour ; regarding the burning of her 
marriage lines, and her acquiescence in their de- 
struction, as releasing him from the responsibility 
of wedlock, though he felt " a miserable blank in 
his heart with the want of her.' 5 '' 

Thus circumstanced, Burns made the acquain- 
tance of Mrs M'Lehose ; and is it to be wonder- 
ed at, that he found great delight in the society 
of a lady of her talents and great vivacity, — 
well-read and fond of poetry, romantic, and a 
" bit of an enthusiast," warm in her feelings 
and attachments, — who immediately and keen- 
ly sympathized with him ? or, is it a matter of 
surprise, that he felt, and sometimes expressed 
hopes that were wild and visionary ? 

Mrs M'Lehose was at this period a young mar- 
ried woman whose husband was abroad ; but, ow- 
ing to his unmerited bad treatment of her, a 
separation had taken place several years before. 
She was gifted with ardent affections, and feelings 
capable of the most devoted attachment, — in the 
prime of life, — not possessed of the " dear cha- 
rities of brother, sister, parent :" for " I have 



INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 61 

none of these," she writes, " and belong to no- 
body." How deeply she felt the loneliness of her 
situation appears from what she writes in another 
letter : — " At this season, [New Year,] when 
others are joyous, I am the reverse. I have no 
near relations ; and while others are with their 
friends, I sit alone, musing upon several of mine, 
with whom I used to be, now gone to the land of 
forget fulness.'" 

Thus as it were desolate, and feeling that " her 
heart — her fondest wishes — could not be placed on 
him who ought to have had them, but whose 
conduct had justly forfeited them," — it was very 
natural, though not very prudent, that she had 
long " sought for a male friend .... who could 
love me with tenderness — yet unmixed with self- 
ishness ; who could be my friend, companion, 
protector ! and who would die sooner than injure 
me." 

This friend she now found. " I sought, but 1 
sought in vain. Heaven has, I hope, sent me 
this blessing in my Sylvander." 

Though the friends of Mrs M'Lehose's hus- 
band condemned his conduct, and had suffered 



62 INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

severely from it themselves, yet they, in some 
degree, espoused his cause ; and no doubt were 
ready to listen to any whisper of slander against 
her. Her temperament, naturally too sensitive, 
led her to be extremely timid and cautious. 
Moreover, she had a young family, who needed 
all her care; and her circumstances being nar- 
row, and eked out by the bounty of others, it 
behoved her to be guarded, lest imprudence might 
stop that bounty and throw her into increased 
difficulties. 

Mrs M'Lehose was, in several respects, a ready 
mark for the ill-natured observations of the en- 
vious and censorious, — being a wit and a beauty, 
and having " an inveterate turn for social plea- 
sure." When she indulged this turn, she ad- 
mits that her vivacity often carried her too far. 
" If you saw me in a merry party, you would 
suppose me only an enthusiast in fun ; but I now 
avoid such parties. My spirits are sunk for days 
after ; and, what is worse, there are sometimes 
dull or malicious souls who censure me loudly for 
what their sluggish natures cannot comprehend. 
Were I possessed of an independent fortune, I 



INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 63 

would scorn their pitiful remarks ; but every- 
thing in my situation renders prudence necessary." 

When Burns visited Mrs M'Lehose, she lived 
in a court at the back of General's Entry, Potter- 
row, a narrow street into which this entry forms 
a passage. A small circular stair leads to the 
different floors, on the first of which she lived. 
The rooms are small and low-roofed, with windows 
of less size than many modern panes of glass. 

In the year 1787, the building of the New 
Town of Edinburgh was not far advanced, and 
the good people were not accustomed to wide, 
airy streets ; nor did they generally occupy spa- 
cious rooms, with abundance of the light of hea- 
ven. They were content to live in alleys and 
courts, or, at best, in narrow streets ; and were 
satisfied with small rooms, with diminutive win- 
dows, which did not- afford a sufficiency of day- 
light. When people lived in such close neigh- 
bourhood, they had much better opportunities 
than are afforded in the present day of watching 
the movements of their neighbours ; opportunities 
which, it has been wickedly asserted, they were not 
slow to improve. To this they may have been 



64 INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

so far incited by the deficiency of daylight ; the 
very obscurity, perhaps, lending a charm to prying 
curiosity. 

In Clarinda's letter to Sylvander, of the 16th 
January, there is an amusing instance of her 
anxiety to avoid this disagreeable sort of obser- 
vation : — " Either to-morrow or Friday, I shall be 
happy to see you. * * * I hope you'll come a-foot, 
even though you take a chair home. A chair is 
so uncommon a thing in our neighbourhood, it is 
apt to raise speculation ; but they are all asleep 
by ten." It is not to be doubted that a sedan 
chair would have caused much interesting specu- 
lation in an " entry ;" and it was a lucky cir- 
cumstance that the neighbours, some of whom, it 
is to be feared, were of the " coarser stuff of hu- 
man nature," were such early-to-bed people. 

When Mrs M'Lehose sought for a friend, who 
could love her with tenderness unmixed with 
selfishness, and found this friend in Sylvander, 
she underrated the influence of love and the 
power of the charmer. It is easy to resist the 
beginning of passion; easy to turn aside the 
stream when it is small ; but difficult to direct or 



INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 65 

stem the current when the stream has become a 
torrent. Thus Clarinda became so rapidly and 
so strongly attached to Sylvander, that she her- 
self trembled for the consequences. Pleased with the 
genius of this extraordinary man, who had " her 
best wishes before they met," she did not sufficiently 
estimate the danger of so tender an intercourse. 

But though there were many rocks on which 
their love was threatened with shipwreck, some- 
times from the boldness of the pilot, sometimes 
from her own uncalled-for alarm, it is apparent 
that what she required in such a friend (and her 
requirements who shall condemn ?) was satisfac- 
torily fulfilled. " In you, and you alone, I have 
ever found my highest demands of kindness ac- 
complished ; nay, even my fondest wishes not 
gratified only, but anticipated ." That Mrs 
M'Lehose was innocent of all criminal thoughts 
and intentions, it is believed no candid mind can 
doubt, after reading the following series of letters. 
Her love was, indeed, a flame " where innocence 
looked smiling on, and honour stood by, a sacred 
guard." Yet it may be doubted whether any 
married woman should have permitted herself to 



66 INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

continue in circumstances of such temptation ; 
certain it is, that few women could have come out 
of such a trial untarnished. But she did come 
forth unblemished, and live to a good old age, re- 
spected and beloved by all who knew her. This 
could not have been the case if there had been 
any spot in her character for scandal to point the 
finger at. Her attachment she had early revealed 
to her clergyman, and even taken his advice 
about it. It was a subject of conversation with 
various friends, some of whom even "trembled 
for her peace." Such frankness bears the stamp 
of conscious innocence. 

It has been asserted, in the Life of Burns by 
Allan Cunningham, that " in general the raptures 
of Sylvander are artificial, and his sensibility as- 
sumed. He puts himself into strange postures 
and picturesque positions, and feels imaginary 
pains to correspond. He wounds himself, to show 
how readily the sores of love can be mended ; and 
flogs his body like a devotee, to obtain the com- 
passion of his patron saint.'" Similar views have 
been expressed by others ; but surely they did not 
make allowances for a man of his ardent and en- 



INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 67 

thusiastic nature. Besides, such opinions were 
formed upon a consideration of a portion only of 
his Letters, without any opportunity of perus- 
ing those of Clarinda. The tenor of the entire 
correspondence negatives such views, and shows 
that Sylvander took a decided interest in Clarinda 
from the first ; that the feelings expressed by him 
were really felt, and not assumed: for no man 
can exhibit more earnestness and sincerity of pur- 
pose ; and, indeed, he seems too soon to have hinted 
at hopes which were visionary. If Sylvander, at 
a later period, seriously entertained such hopes, 
it explains many of his strong expressions of 
attachment, otherwise bombastic. It must be ad- 
mitted that several of his letters contain passages 
offensive from their boldness and presumption, 
which wounded the nice sensibility of Clarinda ; 
but these were avowedly written after deep pota- 
tions. His letters,- in general, display his usual 
acute powers of observation, and are written in 
very various moods of mind. 

It will be observed that matters are discussed 
in the letters, both of Sylvander and Clarinda, 
and seem to have formed the subject of conversa- 



68 INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

tion at their interviews, which the refinement of 
more modern times does not allow to be intro- 
duced — hardly alluded to. But it would not be 
fair to judge the manners of the last century by 
the standard of the present. The French Bevo- 
lution, and the stirring events which followed, 
broke up the old order of things. The greatly-in- 
creased intercourse since the peace between Great 
Britain and the different nations of Europe, as 
well as between different sections of this country, 
together with the more general diffusion of litera- 
ture and of a higher degree of cultivation, have 
had beneficial effects, quite incalculable, in eradi- 
cating the dissolute state of manners which pre- 
vailed during the last century, in removing local 
prejudices, and introducing increased refinement 
of taste, with more correct moral sentiments. 

The visionary hopes entertained by the poet 
were generally checked by Clarinda, with a happy 
mixture of dignity and mildness, bespeaking in- 
ward purity. " Is it not too near an infringe- 
ment of the sacred obligations of marriage, to be- 
stow one's heart, wishes, and thoughts, upon an- 
other ? Something in my soul whispers that it 



INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 69 

approaches criminality. I obey the voice ; let me 
cast every kind feeling into the allowed bond of 
friendship. If 'tis accompanied with a shadow of 
a softer feeling, it shall be poured into the bosom 
of a merciful God ! If a confession of my warm- 
est, tenderest friendship does not satisfy you, duty 
forbids Clarinda should do more.'" 

Yet it is evident she would not have been much 
distressed at a circumstance which would have 
" put it in the power of somebody (happy some- 
body) to divide her attention with all the delicacy 
and tenderness of an earthly attachment ; " for she 
afterwards writes Sylvander, — " If I ever take a 

walk to the temple of H [Hymen?] I'll disclose 

a cruel anguish of soul which I cannot tell you of; 
but you and I (were it even possible) would fall 
out by the way." Yet, oddly enough, a little 
later she writes to him : — " If she dare dispose of it 
[her heart,] last night can leave you at no loss to 
guess the man." Indeed, the decease of a worth- 
less husband in a West India climate, happen 
when it might, could not have been a matter of 
surprise, any more than of regret. 

Burns left Edinburgh about the middle of 

d2 



70 INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

April 1788, to commence his farming operations in 
Nithsdale; and, erelong, he received from " Dad die 
Auld" his certificate as the husband of Jean 
Armour ; but he had, soon after he reached 
Mauchline, privately acknowledged her as his 
wife. No letters of Burns and Mrs M'Lehose, 
between his departure and the 9th March 1789, 
are now extant. A serious quarrel seems to have 
taken place in this interval ; and the cause may- 
be easily inferred from his letter of that date. 
The lady was highly incensed ; and friendship 
remained in abeyance till his visit to Edinburgh 
in November 1791. In a former visit to Edin- 
burgh, the lady had refused to see him ; but just 
previous to this — his last visit to the metropolis 
— she had written to him in behalf of a girl who had 
loved him not " wisely, but too well," and was 
then dying, and in want. In reply, he requested 
Mrs M'Lehose to relieve her necessities ; and 
when he came to town he called to reimburse the 
trifling outlay which she had advanced, when a 
complete reconciliation seems to have taken place. 
Occasional letters passed between them till 
within a short period of his death. Only one 



INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 71 

of hers remains, in which she takes an earnest 
farewell of him when about to leave for Jamaica in 
1792. His letters betoken the altered circum- 
stances and depressed spirits which characterized 
the latter years of his chequered life. 

With two letters of Mrs M'Lehose to Mr 
Syme, who collected materials for Dr Currie 
when he was preparing his edition of Burns, these 
preliminary remarks will be brought to a close. 
They admirably illustrate the sprightly character 
of Clarinda, and contain some interesting obser- 
vations respecting the immortal bard. 

Extract of Letter. 
MRS M'LEHOSE to MR JOHN SYME. 

" What can have impressed such an idea upon 
you, as that I ever conceived the most distant in- 
tention to destroy these precious memorials of an 
acquaintance, the recollection of which would in- 
fluence me were I to live till fourscore ! Be as- 
sured I will never suffer one of them to perish. 
This I give you my solemn word of honour upon ; 
— nay, more, on condition that you send me my 



72 INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

letters, I will select such passages from our dear 
barcPs letters as will do honour to his memory, 
and cannot hurt my own fame, even with the 
most rigid. His letters, however, are really not 
literary ; they are the passionate effusions of an 
elegant mind— indeed, too tender to be exposed to 
any but the eye of a partial friend. Were the 
world composed of minds such as yours, it would 
be cruel even to bury them : but ah ! how very 
few would understand, much less relish, such 
compositions ! The bulk of mankind are strangers 
to the delicate refinements of superior minds." 

MRS M'LEHOSE to MR JOHN SYME. 

Edinburgh, 9th January, 1797.* 

" Dear Sir, — I am much obliged to you for the 
speedy return you made to my last letter. What 
could induce you to spend New Year's Day in so 
solitary a manner ? Had I not heard other things 
of you, I should have imagined you in the pre- 
dicament of Hamlet, when he exclaims, ' Man 
delights not me, nor woman neither . , I have a 

* The Editor is indebted to Mr Robert Chambers for a copy 
of this Letter. 



INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 73 

presentiment some melancholy recollection lias 
been the cause of your secluding yourself from 
the world on a day when all ranks are devoted 
to festivity. When I first came to Edinburgh 
it was to me the dullest day in the year, because 
I had been accustomed to spend it in the society 
of several of the ; Charities,'' as Milton styles 
them, who were no more. But, for several years 
past, I have acquired friends, with whom I pass 
it cheerfully, though death has deprived me of 
all near relations except Lord Craig, (my first 
cousin,) and a son, who is the pride and pleasure 
of my life. I thought a lady's letter, on a subject 
so near her heart, ought to have been answered 
— even had half an hour been stolen from your 
sleep, and therefore rallied you by a quotation 
from Lord Littleton's poem on Lucy pleading 
want of time : for the truth is, you were at a loss 
what to say; you wished not to return the letters, 
and hardly knew^ how to use the language of de- 
nial — is not this a just statement ? 

' For when a lady's in the case, 

You know all other things give place.' 

Seriously I can easily conceive you must be 



74 INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

excessively hurried: twenty letters in a day — 
and dry uninteresting stuff! Had I them to 
write, they should be favourites indeed to whom I 
w r ould add one to the score. I had no right to ex- 
pect you to ' epistolize"' to me, far less to be a 
regular correspondent. Your neglect of Mrs 
Riddell is amazing, because she is, in my esti- 
mation, the first female writer I ever saw ; and, 
I am convinced, a good soul as ever was, from 

her uncommon attention to our dear B and 

his family. Besides, I suppose, she is an old 
friend of yours. I am delighted with her let- 
ters, and reckon her correspondence a great acqui- 
sition. She sent me Mr Roscoe's Monody on 
Burns. She tells me "'tis he and Dr Currie are 
to be his editors. I am happy you have consented 
to return my letters at last, and that my pledge 
has pleased you. Please direct them, put up in a 
parcel, for my usual address, and send them by 
the Dumfries carrier, who comes here once a-week. 
You must pardon me for refusing to send B.'s. I 
never will. I am determined not to allow them to 
be out of my house ; but it will be quite the same 
to you, as you shall see them all when you come 



INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 75 

to Edinburgh next month. Do write me previous 
to your arrival, and name the day, that I may be 
at home and guard against our being interrupted in 
perusing these dear memorials of our lamented 
friend. I hold them sacred — too sacred for the 
public eye ; and I am sure you will agree they are 
so when you see them. If any argument could 
have prevailed on me, (and Mrs R. exhausted all 
her eloquence could dictate,) the idea of their af- 
fording pecuniary assistance was most likely. But 
I am convinced they would have added little to 
this effect : for I heard, by a literary conversation 
here, that it was thought by most people there 
would be too much intended to be published; and 
that letters especially it was nonsense to give, as 
few would be interested in them. This I thought 
strange, and so will a few enthusiastic admirers of 
our bard ; but I fear 'tis the general voice of the 
public. I earnestly hope the MSS. may turn out 
as valuable as you suppose them. It rejoices me 
to hear so large a sum is to come from other places 
— and join you in reprobating Caledonia's capital 
for her shabby donation. But there are few souls 
anywhere who understood or could enter into the 



76 INTRODUCTION TO THE CORRESPONDENCE. 

relish of such a character as B.'s. There was an 
electricity about him which could only touch or 
pervade a few cast in nature*^ finest mould. I 
fear I have been inaccurate, for I am hurried at 
present. You always shine when mounted on 
pigmies. I know not whether you may have 
reached the top of Parnassus ; but you have cer- 
tainly gathered some sweet flowers by the way. 
" Yours with regard, 

" Clarinda." 



CORRESPONDENCE 



STLVANDER AND CLARIIS'DA. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 



LETTER I. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[December 6, 1787.] * 
Madam, — I had set no small store by my tea- 
drinking to-night, and have not often been so 
disappointed. Saturday evening I shall embrace 
the opportunity with the greatest pleasure. I 
leave this town this day se'ennight, and probably 
I shall not return for a couple of twelvemonths ; 
but I must ever regret that I so lately got an 
acquaintance I shall ever highly esteem, and in 
whose welfare I shall ever be warmly interested. 
Our worthy common friend, Miss Nimmo, in her 
usual pleasant way, rallied me a good deal on my 
new acquaintance ; and, in the humour of her 

* Dates within brackets [ ] are given from the internal evi- 
dence of the letters, and some memoranda made in 1802 by Mrs 
M'Lehose's son. 



80 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

ideas, I wrote some lines, which I enclose you, as 
I think they have a good deal of poetic merit ; 
and Miss Nimmo tells me that you are not only a 
critic but a poetess. Fiction, you know, is the 
native region of poetry; and I hope you will 
pardon my vanity in sending you the bagatelle 
as a tolerable off-hand jeu d? esprit. I have seve- 
ral poetic trifles, which I shall gladly leave with 
Miss Nimmo or you, if they were worth house- 
room ; as there are scarcely two people on earth 
by whom it would mortify me more to be forgot- 
ten, though at the distance of nine score miles. 
I am, Madam, 

With the highest respect, 

Your very humble servant, 

Robert Burns. 
Thursday Even, 



LETTER II. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[December 8.] 
I can say with truth, Madam, that I never met 
with a person in my life whom I more anxiously 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 81 

wished to meet again than yourself. To-night I 
was to have had that very great pleasure, — I was 
intoxicated with the idea ; but an unlucky fall 
from a coach has so bruised one of my knees that 
I can't stir my leg off the cushion. So, if I donH 
see you again, I shall not rest in my grave for 
chagrin. I was vexed to the soul I had not seen 
you sooner. I determined to cultivate your 
friendship with the enthusiasm of religion ; but 
thus has Fortune ever served me. I cannot bear 
the idea of leaving Edinburgh without seeing 
you. I know not how to account for it — I am 
strangely taken with some people, nor am I often 
mistaken. You are a stranger to me ; — but I am 
an odd being. Some yet unnamed feelings — 
things, not principles, but better than whims — 
carry me farther than boasted reason ever did a 
philosopher. 

Farewell ! every happiness be yours. 

Robert Burns. 

Saturday Even., St James* Sqr. y No. 2. * 

* Now No. 30, the south comer house of the west side of the 
Square. 



82 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

LETTER III* 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Saturday Evening, [December Sth.'] 
Inured as I have been to disappointments, I 
never felt more, nay, nor half so severely, for one 
of the same nature ! The cruel cause, too, aug- 
ments my uneasiness, I trust you'll soon recover 
it. Meantime, if my sympathy, my friendship, 
can alleviate your pain, be assured you possess 
them. I am much flattered at being a favourite 
of yours. Miss Nimmo can tell you how earnestly 
I had long pressed her to make us acquainted. I 

* This is one of the few Letters of which the address has 
been preserved. It is addressed, 

" Mr Robert Burns, 

Mr Cruickshank's, 

James' Square." 
Mr Cruickshanks, with whom Burns stayed during his visit 
to Edinburgh, was one of the masters of the High School. 

The address on the letters which Clarinda wrote, have gen- 
erally been obliterated with ink ; while those she received have 
usually been cut or torn off — to gratify (it is supposed) auto- 
graph collectors. Sometimes several lines of writing on the 
previous page are thus lost. 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 83 

had a presentiment that we should derive pleasure 
from the society of each other. To-night I had 
thought of fifty things to say to you : how un- 
fortunate this prevention ! Do not accuse For- 
tune : had I not known she was blind before, her 
ill usage of you had marked it sufficiently. How- 
ever, she is a fickle old beldame, and Yd much 
rather be indebted to nature. You shall not leave 
tow r n without seeing me, if I should come along 
with good Miss Nimmo, and call for you. I am 
determined to see you ; and am ready to exclaim 
with Yorick, " Tut ! are we not all relations V 
We are, indeed, strangers in one sense — but of 
near kin in many respects : those " nameless feel- 
ings " I perfectly comprehend, though the pen of 
a Locke could not define them. Perhaps instinct 
comes nearer their description than either "prin- 
ciples or whims."" Think ye they have any con- 
nexion with that " heavenly light which leads 
astray ?" One thing I know, that they have a 
powerful effect upon me ; and are delightful when 
under the check of reason and religion. 

Miss Nimmo was a favourite of mine from the 
first hour I met with her. There is a softness, a 



84 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

nameless something about her, that, were I a man, 
old as she is, I should have chosen her before most 
women I know. I fear, however, this liking is 
not mutual. I'll tell you why I think so, at 
meeting. She was in mere jest when she told you 
I was a poetess. I have often composed rhyme, 
(if not reason^) but never one line of poetry. The 
distinction is obvious to every one of the least 
discernment. Your lines were truly poetical : 
give me all you can spare. Not one living has a 
higher relish for poetry than I have ; and my 
reading everything of the kind makes me a toler- 
able judge. Ten years ago such lines from such 
a hand would have half-turned my head. Perhaps 
you thought it might have done so even yet ; — 
and wisely premised, that " Fiction was the native 
region of poetry." Eead the enclosed, which I 
scrawled just after reading yours. Be sincere ; 
and own that, whatever merit it has, it has not a 
line resembling poetry. Pardon any little free- 
doms I take with you : if they entertain a heavy 
hour, they have all the merit I intended. Will 
you let me know, now and then, how your leg is ? 
If I were your sister, I would call and see you ; 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 



but 'tis a censorious world this ; and (in this sense) 
you and I are not of the world. Adieu. Keep 
up your heart, you will soon get well, and we shall 
meet — Farewell. God bless you. A. M. 



LETTER IV. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[December 12.] 
I stretch a point, indeed, my dearest Madam, 
when I answer your card on the rack of my pre- 
sent agony. Your friendship, Madam ! By hea- 
vens, I was never proud before. Your lines, I 
maintain it, are poetry, and good poetry ; mine 
were, indeed, partly fiction, and partly a friend- 
ship which, had I been so blest as to have met 
with you in time, might have led me — God of love 
only knows where. Time is too short for cere- 
monies. 

I swear solemnly, (in all the tenor of my for- 
mer oath,) to remember you in all the pride and 
warmth of friendship until — I cease to be ! 

E 



86 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

To-morrow, and every day, till I see you, you 
shall hear from me. 

Farewell ! May you enjoy a better night's re- 
pose than I am likely to have. 



LETTER V. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Sunday r Noon, \_December 16.] 
Miss Nimmo and I had a long conversation 
last night. Little did I suspect that she was of 
the party. Gentle, sweet soul ! She is accusing 
herself as the cause of your misfortune. It was 
in vain I rallied her upon such an excess of sen- 
sibility, (as I termed it.) She is lineally de- 
scended from " My Uncle Toby"; has hopes of 
the Devil, and would not hurt a fly. How could 
you tell me that you were in " agony"? I hope 
you would swallow laudanum, and procure some 
ease from sleep. I am glad to hear Mr Wood at- 
tends you. He is a good soul, and a safe surgeon. 
I know him a little. Do as he bids, an d I trust 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 87 

your leg will soon be quite well. When I meet 
you, I must chide you for writing in your roman- 
tic style. Do you remember that she whom you 
address is a married woman ? or, Jacob-like, would 
you wait seven years, and even then, perhaps, be 
disappointed, as he was ? No ; I know you bet- 
ter : you have too much of that impetuosity 
which generally accompanies noble minds. To 
be serious, most people would think, by your style, 
that you were writing to some vain, silly woman 
to make a fool of her— -or worse. I have too much 
vanity to ascribe it to the former motive, and too 
much charity to harbour an idea of the latter ; 
and viewing it as the effusion of a benevolent 
heart upon meeting one somewhat similar to it- 
self, I have promised you my friendship : it will 
be your own fault if I ever withdraw it. Would 
to God I had it in my power to give you some 
solid proofs of it! Were I the Duchess of Gor- 
don, you should be possessed of that independence 
which every generous mind pants after ; but 1 
fear she is " no Duchess at the heart." Obscure 
as I am (comparatively,) I enjoy all the neces- 
saries of life as fully as I desire, and wish for 



88 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

wealth only to procure the " luxury of doing 
good." 

My chief design in writing you to-day was to 
beg you would not write me often, lest the exer- 
tion should hurt you. Meantime, if my scrawls 
can amuse you in your confinement, you shall 
have them occasionally. I shall hear of you every 
day from my beloved Miss Nimmo. Do you 
know, the very first time I was in her house, most 
of our conversation was about a certain (lame) 
poet ? I read her soul in her expressive counte- 
nance, and have been attached to her ever since. 
Adieu ! Be patient. Take care of yourself. My 
best wishes attend you. A. M. 



LETTER VI. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[December 20.] 
Your last, my dear Madam, had the effect on 
me that Job's situation had on his friends, w T hen 
" they sat down seven days and seven nights 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 89 

astonied, and spake not a word." — " Pay my ad- 
dresses to a married woman ! " I started as if I 
had seen the ghost of him I had injured : I re- 
collected my expressions ; some of them indeed 
were, in the law phrase, " habit and repute," 
which is being half guilty. I cannot positively 
say, Madam, whether my heart might not have 
gone astray a little ; but I can declare, upon the 
honour of a poet, that the vagrant has wandered 
unknown to me. I have a pretty handsome troop 
of follies of my own ; and like some other peopled 
retinue, they are but undisciplined blackguards : 
but the luckless rascals have something of honour 
in them ; they would not do a dishonest thing. 

To meet with an unfortunate woman, amiable 
and young, deserted and widowed by those who 
were bound by every tie of duty, nature, and gra- 
titude, to protect, comfort, and cherish her ; add 
to all, when she is perhaps one of the first of 
lovely forms and noble minds, the mind, too, that 
hits one's taste as the joys of Heaven do a saint — 
should a vague infant idea, the natural child of 
imagination, thoughtlessly peep over the fence — 
were you, my friend, to sit in judgment, and the 



90 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

poor, airy straggler brought before you, trembling, 
self-condemned, with artless eyes, brimful of con- 
trition, looking wistfully on its judge, — you could 
not, my dear Madam, condemn the hapless wretch 
to death " without benefit of clergy "? 

I won't tell you what reply my heart made to 
your raillery of " seven years" ; but I will give 
you what a brother of my trade says on the same 
allusion: — 

The Patriarch to gain a wife, 
Chaste, beautiful, and young, 
Served fourteen years a painful life, 
And never thought it long. 

Oh were you to reward such cares, 
And life so long would stay, 
Not fourteen but four hundred years 
Would seem but as one day ! 

I have written you this scrawl because I have 
nothing else to do, and you may sit down and find 
fault with it, if you have no better way of con- 
suming your time ; but finding fault with the 
vagaries of a poet's fancy is much such another 
business as Xerxes chastising the waves of Helles- 
pont. 

My limb now allows me to sit in some peace; 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 91 

to walk I have yet no prospect of, as I can't mark 
it to the ground. 

I have just now looked over what I have writ- 
ten, and it is such a chaos of nonsense that I dare- 
say you will throw it into the fire, and call me an 
idle, stupid fellow ; but whatever you think of my 
brains, believe me to be, with the most sacred 
respect, and heartfelt esteem, 

My dear Madam, 

Your humble servant, 

Robert Burns. * 



LETTER VII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[December 11st.~\ 
I beg your pardon, my dear " Clarmda," for 
the fragment scrawl I sent you Yesterday. I 
really don't know w T hat I wrote. A gentleman 
for whose character, abilities, and critical know- 
ledge, I have the highest veneration, called in 

* Between this and the ensuing letter there was probably one 
signed " Clarinda" for the first time, now lost. 



92 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

just as I had begun the second sentence, and I 
would not make the porter wait. I read to my 
much-respected friend several of my own bagatelles, 
and, among others, your lines, which I had copied 
out. He began some criticisms on them, as on 
the other pieces, when I informed him they were 
the work of a young lady in this town ; which, I 
assure you, made him stare. My learned friend se- 
riously protested, that he did not believe any young 
woman in Edinburgh was capable of such lines : and, 
if you know anything of Professor Gregory, you 
will neither doubt of his abilities nor his sincerity. 
I do love you, if possible, still better for having 
so fine a taste and turn for poesy. I have again 
gone wrong in my usual unguarded way ; but you 
may erase the word, and put esteem, respect, or 
any other tame Dutch expression you please in 
its place. I believe there is no holding converse, 
or carrying on correspondence with an amiable 
woman, much less a gloriously-amiable fine woman, 
without some mixture of that delicious passion, 
whose most devoted slave I have, more than once, 
had the honour of being. But why be hurt or 
offended on that account ? Can no honest man 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 93 

have a prepossession for a line woman, but he 
must run his head against an intrigue ? Take a 
little of the tender witchcraft of love, and add it 
to the generous, the honourable sentiments of 
manly friendship, and I know but one more de- 
lightful morsel, which few, few in any rank ever 
taste. Such a composition is like adding cream 
to strawberries : it not only gives the fruit a more 
elegant richness, but has a peculiar deliciousness 
of its own. 

I enclose you a few lines I composed on a late 
melancholy occasion. I will not give above five or 
six copies of it at all ; and I would be hurt if any 
friend should give any copies without my consent. 

You cannot imagine, Clarinda, (I like the idea 
of Arcadian names in a commerce of this kind,) 
how much store I have set by the hopes of your 
future friendship. I don't know if you have a 
just idea of my character, but I wish you to see 
me as I am. I am, as most people of my trade 
are, a strange Will-o'-wisp being ; the victim, too 
frequently, of much imprudence, and many follies. 
My great constituent elements are pride and pas- 
sion : the first I have endeavoured to humanize 

e2 



94 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

into integrity and honour ; the last makes me a 
devotee, to the warmest degree of enthusiasm, 
in love, religion, or friendship : either of them, or 
altogether, as I happen to be inspired. *Tis true 
I never saw you but once; but how much ac- 
quaintance did I form with you at that once ! Do 
not think I flatter you, or have a design upon you, 
Clarincla : I have too much pride for the one, and 
too little cold contrivance for the other ; but of 
all God's creatures I ever could approach in the 
beaten way of acquaintance, you struck me with 
the deepest, the strongest, the most permanent 
impression. I say the most permanent, because 
I know myself well, and how far I can promise 
either on my prepossessions or powers. Why are 
you unhappy ? — and why are so many of our fel- 
low-creatures, unworthy to belong to the same 
species with you, blest with all they can wish I 
You have a hand all-benevolent to give, — why 
were you denied the pleasure I You have a heart 
formed, gloriously formed, for all the most refined 
luxuries of love, — why was that heart ever wrung? 
O Clarinda ! shall we not meet in a state, some 
yet unknown state of being, where the lavish hand 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 95 

of Plenty shall minister to the highest wish of 
Benevolence, and where the chill north-wind of 
Prudence shall never blow over the flowery fields 
of enjoyment I If we do not, man was made in 
vain ! I deserved most of the unhappy hours that 
have lingered over my head ; they were the wages 
of my labour. But what unprovoked demon, ma- 
lignant as hell, stole upon the confidence of un- 
mistrusting, busy fate, and dashed your cup of life 
with undeserved sorrow ? 

Let me know how long your stay will be out of 
town : I shall count the hours till you inform me 
of your return. Cursed etiquette forbids your 
seeing me just now ; and so soon as I can walk I 
must bid Edinburgh adieu. Lord, why was I 
born to see misery which I cannot relieve, and to 
meet with friends whom I can't enjoy ! I look 
back with the pangs of unavailing avarice on my loss 
in not knowing' you sooner. All last winter, — 
these three months past, — what luxury of inter- 
course have I not lost ! Perhaps, though, 'twas 
better for my peace. You see I am either above, or 
incapable of dissimulation. I believe it is want of 
that particular genius. I despise design, because 



96 CLAR1NDA TO SYLVANDER. 

I want either coolness or wisdom to be capable of 
it. I am interrupted. Adieu, my dear Clarinda ! 

Sylvander. 
Friday Evening. 



LETTER VIII. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Friday Evening, {Dec. 21.] 
I go to the country early to-morrow morning, 
but will be home by Tuesday — sooner than I ex- 
pected. I have not time to answer yours as it 
deserves ; nor, had I the age of Methusalem, 
could I answer it in kind. I shall grow vain. 
Your praises were enough, — but those of a Dr 
Gregory superadded ! Take care : many a " glo- 
rious " woman has been undone by having her 
head turned. " Know you ! V I know you far 
better than you do me. Like yourself, I am a 
bit of an enthusiast. In religion and friendship 
quite a bigot — perhaps I could be so in love too ; 
but everything dear to me in heaven and earth 
forbids ! This is my fixed principle ; and the 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 97 

person who would dare to endeavour to remove it 
I would hold as my chief enemy. Like you, I 
am incapable of dissimulation ; nor am I, as you 
suppose, unhappy. I have been unfortunate ; but 
guilt alone could make me unhappy. Possessed 
of fine children, — competence, — fame, — friends, 
kind and attentive, — what a monster of ingrati- 
tude should I be in the eye of Heaven were I to 
style myself unhappy ! True, I have met with 
scenes horrible to recollection — even at six years' 
distance ; but adversity, my friend, is allowed to 
be the school of virtue. It oft confers that chas- 
tened softness which is unknown among the fa- 
vourites of Fortune ! Even a mind possessed of 
natural sensibility, without this, never feels that 
exquisite pleasure which nature has annexed to 
our sympathetic sorrows. Religion, the only 
refuge of the unfortunate, has been my balm in 
every woe. O ! -could I make her appear to you 
as she has done to me ! Instead of ridiculing 
her tenets, you would fall down and worship her 
very semblance wherever you found it ! 

I will write you again at more leisure, and 
notice other parts of yours. I send you a simile 



98 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

upon a character I don't know if you are acquaint- 
ed with. I am confounded at your admiring my 
lines. I shall begin to question your taste, — but 
Dr G. ! When I am low-spirited (which I am 
at times) I shall think of this as a restorative. 
Now for the simile : — 

The morning sun shines glorious and bright, 
And fills the heart with wonder and delight ! 
He dazzles in meridian splendour seen, 
Without a blackening cloud to intervene. 
So, at a distance viewed, your genius bright, 
Your wit, your flowing numbers give delight. 
But, ah ! when error's dark'ning clouds arise, 
When passion's thunder, folly's lightning flies, 
More safe we gaze, but admiration dies. 
And as the tempting brightness snares the moth, 
Sure ruin marks too near approach to both. 

Good night ; for Clarinda's " heavenly eyes " 
need the earthly aid of sleep. Adieu. 

Clarinda. 

P.#. — I entreat you not to mention our cor- 
responding to one on earth. Though Fve con- 
scious innocence, mv situation is a delicate one. 



CLAR1NDA TO SYLVANDER. 99 

LETTER IX. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

January 1, 1788. 

Many happy returns of this day to you, my 
dear, pleasant friend ! May each revolving year 
find you wiser and happier ! I embrace the first 
spare hour to fulfil my promise ; and begin with 
thanking you for the enclosed lines — they are 
very pretty : I like the idea of personifying the 
vices rising in the absence of Justice. It is a 
constant source of refined pleasure, giving "to 
airy nothings a local habitation and a name," 
which people of a luxuriant imagination only can 
enjoy. Yet, to a mind of a benevolent turn, it 
is delightful to observe how equal the distribution 
of happiness is among all ranks ! If stupid people 
are rendered incapable of tasting the refined plea- 
sures of the intelligent and feeling mind, they are 
likewise exempted from the thousand distractions 
and disquietudes peculiar to sensibility. 

I have been staying with a dear female friend, 
who has long been an admirer of yours, and was 



100 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

once on the brink of meeting with you in the house 
of a Mrs Bruce. She would have been a much 
better Clarinda. She is comely, without being 
beautiful, — and has a large share of sense, taste, 
and sensibility ; added to all, a violent penchant 
for poetry. If I ever have an opportunity, I shall 
make you and her acquainted. No wonder Dr 
Gregory criticised my lines. I saw several de* 
fects in them mvself ; but had neither time nor 
patience (nor ability, perhaps,) to correct them. 
The three last verses were longer than the former ; 
and in the conclusion, I saw a vile tautology which 
I could not get rid of. But you will not wonder 
when I tell you, that I am not only ignorant of 
every language except my own, but never so much 
as knew a syllable of the English grammar. If 
I ever write grammatically, 'tis through mere habit. 
I rejoice to hear of Dr Gregory being your parti- 
cular friend. Though unacquainted, I am no 
stranger to his character : where worth unites 
with abilities, it commands our love as well as 
admiration. Alas ! they are too seldom found in 
one character ! Those possessed of great talents 
would do well to remember, that all depends upon 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 101 

the use made of them. Shining abilities impro- 
perly applied, only serve to accelerate our destruc- 
tion in both worlds. I loved you, for your fine 
taste in poetry, long before I saw you ; so shall 
not trouble myself erasing the same word applied 
in the same way to me. You say, " there is no 
corresponding with an agreeable woman without 
a mixture of the tender passion." I believe there 
is no friendship between people of sentiment and of 
different sexes, without a little softness ; but when 
kept within proper bounds, it only serves to give 
a higher relish to such intercourse. Love and 
Friendship are names in every one's mouth ; but 
few, extremely few, understand their meaning. 
Love (or affection) cannot be genuine if it hesitate 
a moment to sacrifice every selfish gratification to 
the happiness of its object. On the contrary, 
when it would purchase that at the expense of 
this, it deserves to be styled, not love, but by a 
name too gross to mention. Therefore, I con- 
tend, that an honest man may have a friendly 
prepossession for a woman whose soul would 
abhor the idea of an intrigue with her. These 
;are my sentiments upon this subject : I hope 



102 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

they correspond with yours. 'Tis honest in you 
to wish me to see you " just as you are." I be- 
lieve I have a tolerably just idea of your charac- 
ter. No wonder ; for had I been a man, I should 
have been you. I am not vain enough to think 
myself equal in abilities ; but I am formed with 
a liveliness of fancy, and a strength of passion 
little inferior. Situation and circumstances have, 
however, had the effects upon each of us which 
might be expected. Misfortune has wonderfully 
contributed to subdue the keenness of my pas- 
sions, while success and adulation have served to 
nourish and inflame yours. Both of us are in- 
capable of deceit, because we want coolness and 
command of our feelings. Art is w T hat I never 
could attain to, even in situations where a little 
would have been prudent. Now and then, I am 
favoured with a salutary blast of " the north wind 
of Prudence." The southern zephyrs of Kindness, 
too, often send up their sultry fogs, and cloud the 
atmosphere of my understanding. I have thought 
that " Nature" threw me off in the same mould, 
just after you. We were born, I believe, in one 
year. Madam Nature has some merit by her 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDEK. 103 

work that year. Don't you think so I I suppose 
the carline has had a flying visit of Venus and 
the Graces ; and Minerva has been jealous of her 
attention, and sent Apollo with his harp to charm 
thein away. 

But why do you accuse Fate for my misfor- 
tunes ? There is a noble independence of mind 
which I do admire; but, when not checked by 
Religion, it is apt to degenerate into a criminal 
arraignment of Providence. No " malignant de- 
mon," as you suppose, was " permitted to dash 
my cup of life with sorrow : " it was the kindness 
of a wise and tender Father, who foresaw that I 
needed chastisement ere I could be brought to 
himself. Ah, my friend, Religion converts our 
heaviest misfortunes into blessings ! I feel it to 
be so. These passions, naturally too violent for 
my peace, have been broken and moderated by 
adversity ; and if even that has been unable to 
conquer my vivacity, what lengths might I not 
have gone, had I been permitted to glide along in 
the sunshine of prosperity ? I should have for- 
got my future destination, and fixed my happiness 
on the fleeting shadows below ! My hand was 



104 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

denied the bliss of giving, but Heaven accepts of 
the wish. My heart was formed for love, and I 
desire to devote it to Him who is the source of 
love ! Yes : we shall surely meet in an " unknown 
state of being," where there will be full scope for 
every kind, heartfelt affection — love without alloy, 
and without end. Your paragraph upon this 
made the tears flow down my face ! I will not 
tell you the reflections which it raised in my mind ; 
but I wished that a heart susceptible of such a 
sentiment took more pains about its accomplish- 
ment. I fancy you will not wish me to write 
again ; you'll think me too serious and grave. I 
know not how I have been led to be so ; but I 
make no excuse, because I must be allowed to 
write to you as I feel, or not at all. You say 
you have humanized pride into " honour and in- 
tegrity.''' "Tis a good endeavour ; and could you 
command your too-impetuous passions, it would 
be a more glorious achievement than his who con- 
quered the world, and wept because he had no 
more worlds to subdue. Forgive my freedom 
with you : I never trouble myself with the faults 
of those I don't esteem, and only notice those of 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 105 

friends to themselves, I am pleased with friends 
when they tell me mine, and look upon it as a 
test of real friendship. 

I have your poems in loan just now. Fve 
read them many times, and with new pleasure. 
Sometime I shall give you my opinion upon them 
severally. Let me have a sight of some of your 
" Bagatelles," as you style them. If ever I w r rite 
any more, you shall have them ; and Til thank 
you to correct their errors. I wrote lines on 
Bishop G., by way of blank verse ; but they were 
what Pope describes — " Ten low words do creep 
in one dull line." I believe you (being a genius) 
have inspired me ; for I never wrote so well be- 
fore. Pray, is Dr Gregory pious ? I have heard 
so. I wish I knew him. Adieu ! You have 
quantity enough ! whatever be the quality. 
Good night. Believe me your sincere friend, 

Olarinda. 



106 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

LETTER X. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Thursday, Jan. [3d] 1788. 

I got your lines : they are " in kind!" I can't 
but laugh at my presumption in pretending to 
send my poor ones to you ! but it was to amuse 
myself. At this season, when others are joyous, 
I am the reverse. I have no near relations ; 
and while others are with theirs, I sit alone, 
musing upon several of mine with whom I used 
to be — now gone to the land of forgetfulness. 

You have put me in a rhyming humour. The 
moment I read yours, I wrote the following lines — 

Talk not of Love ! it gives me pain — 
For Love has been my foe : 
He bound me in an iron chain ! 
And plunged me deep in woe ! 

But Friendship's pure and lasting joys 
My heart was form'd to prove — 
The worthy object be of those, 
But never talk of Love. 

The "Hand of Friendship " I accept— 
May Honour be our guard ! 



CLARINDA TO SYLVAXDER. 107 

Virtue our intercourse direct, 
Her smiles our dear reward ! * 

But I wish to know (in sober prose) how your 
leg is ? I would have inquired sooner had I known 
it would have been acceptable. Miss N. informs 
me now and then ; but I have not seen her dear 
face for some time. Do you think you could 
venture this length in a coach, without hurting 
yourself? I go out of town the beginning of the 
week, for a few days. I wish you could come to- 
morrow or Saturday. I long for a conversation 
with you, and lameness of body won't hinder that. 
'Tis really curious — so much fun passing between 
two persons who saw one another only once I Say 
if you think you dare venture ; — only let the 
coachman be " adorned with sobriety." 

Adieu ! Believe me, (on my simple word,) 
Your real friend and well-wisher, 

A. M. 

* The following stanza was afterwards added by Clarinda at 
the Poet's suggestion ; it is here added from the original MS. 
in her own hand : 

Your thought, if Love must harbour there, 

Conceal it in that thought, 

Nor cause me from my bosom tear 

The very friend I sought. 



108 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

LETTER XI. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[January 3d.~] 
My dear Clarinda, — Your last verses have so 
delighted me, that I have copied them in among 
some of my own most valued pieces, which I keep 
sacred for my own use. Do let me have a few 
now and then. 

Did you, Madam, know what I feel when you 
talk of your sorrows ! 

Good God ! that one, who has so much worth 
in the sight of heaven, and is so amiable to her 
fellow-creatures, should be so unhappy ! I can't 
venture out for cold. My limb is vastly better ; 
but I have not any use of it without my crutches. 
Monday, for the first time, I dine in a neigh- 
bour's, next door. As soon as I can go so far. 
even in a coach, my first visit shall be to you. 
Write me when you leave town, and immediately 
when you return ; and I earnestly pray your stay 
may be short. You can't imagine how miserable 
you made me when you hinted to me not to write. 
Farewell. Sylvander. 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 109 

LETTER XII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[January 4ih.~\ 
You are right, my dear Clarinda ; a friendly 
correspondence goes for nothing, except one write 
their undisguised sentiments. Yours please uie 
for their intrinsic merit, as well as because they 
are yours ; which, I assure you, is to me a high 
recommendation. Your religious sentiments, 
Madam, I revere. If you have, on some sus- 
picious evidence, from some lying oracle, learnt 
that I despise or ridicule so sacredly-important a 
matter as real religion, you have, my Clarinda, 
much misconstrued your friend. " I am not mad. 
most noble Festus !" Have you ever met a per- 
fect character ? Do we not sometimes rather ex- 
change faults than get rid of them ? For instance, 
I am perhaps tired with and shocked at a life too 
much the prey of giddy inconsistencies and thought- 
less follies. By degrees I grow sober, prudent, and 
statedly pious. I say statedly ; because the most 
unaffected devotion is not at all inconsistent with 

F 



HO SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

my first character. I join the world in congratu- 
lating myself on the happy change. But let me 
pry more narrowly into this affair. Have I at 
bottom anything of a secret pride in these endow- 
ments and emendations ? Have I nothing of a 
Presbyterian sourness, a hypercritical severity, 
when I survey my less regular neighbours ? In a 
word, have I missed all those nameless and num- 
berless modifications of indistinct selfishness which 
are so near our own eyes, that we can scarce bring 
them within our sphere of vision, and which the 
known spotless cambric of our character hides 
from the ordinary observer ? 

My definition of worth is short : truth and 
humanity respecting our fellow-creatures ; rever- 
ence and humility in the presence of that Being, 
my Creator and Preserver, and who, I have every 
reason to believe, will one day be my Judge. The 
first part of my definition is the creature of un- 
biassed instinct ; the last is the child of after 
reflection. Where I found these two essentials, 
I would gently note and slightly mention any 
attendant flaws — flaws, the marks, the conse- 
quences of human nature. 



SYLVAXDER TO CLARIXDA. Ill 

I can easily enter into the sublime pleasures 
that your strong imagination and keen sensibility 
must derive from religion, particularly if a little 
in the shade of misfortune ; but I own I cannot, 
without a marked grudge, see Heaven totally en- 
gross so amiable, so charming a woman as my 
friend Clarinda ; and should be very well pleased 
at a circumstance that would put it in the power 
of somebody, happy somebody ! to divide her at- 
tention, with all the delicacy and tenderness of an 
earthly attachment. 

You will not easily persuade me that you have 
not a Grammatical knowledge of the English Ian- 
guage. So far from being inaccurate, you are 
elegant beyond any woman of my acquaintance, 
except one, whom I wish you knew. 

Your last verses to me have so delighted me, 
that I have got an excellent old Scots air that 
suits the measure, and you shall see them in print 
in the " Scots Musical Museum" — a work publish- 
ing by a friend of mine in this town. I want four 
stanzas ; you gave me but three, and one of them 
alluded to an expression in my former letter : so 1 
have taken vour two first verses, with a slight 



112 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

alteration in the second, — and have added a third ; 
but you must help me to a fourth. Here they 
are : the latter half of the first stanza would have 
been worthy of Sappho. I am in raptures with it. 

Talk not of Love ! it gives me pain — 
For Love has been my foe : 
He bound me with an iron chain, 
And sunk me deep in woe. 

But Friendship's pure and lasting joys 
My heart was form'd to prove : 
There, welcome win and wear the prize, 
But never talk of Love. 

Your friendship much can make me blest, 
O, why that bliss destroy ? 
Why urge the odious * one request, 
You know I must + deny ? 

The alteration in the second stanza is no improve- 
ment ; but there was a slight inaccuracy in your 
rhyme. The third I only offer to your choice, and 
have left two words for your determination. The 
air is " The Banks of Spey," and is most beautiful. 

To-morrow evening I intend taking a chair, and 

paying a visit at Park Place, to a much valued 

old friend. If I could be sure of finding you at 

home, (and I will send one of the chairmen to 

* Var. " only." f Var. " will." 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 113 

call,) I would spend from five to six o'clock with 
you, as I go past. I cannot do more at this time, 
as I have something on my hand that hurries. me 
much. I propose giving you the first call, my 
old friend the second, and Miss Nimmo as I re- 
turn home. Do not break any engagement for 
me, as I will spend another evening with you at 
any rate before I leave town. Do not tell me that 
you are pleased when your friends inform you of 
your faults. I am ignorant what they are ; but 
I am sure they must be such evanescent trifles, 
compared with your personal and mental accom- 
plishments, that I would despise the ungenerous, 
narrow soul, who would notice any shadow of im- 
perfections you may seem to have, any other way 
than in the most delicate agreeable raillery. Coarse 
minds are not aware how much they injure the 
keenly feeling tie of bosom-friendship, when in 
their foolish officiousness they mention what no- 
body cares for recollecting. People of nice sensi- 
bility and generous minds have a certain intrinsic 
dignity, that fires at being trifled with, or lowered, 
or even too nearly approached. 

You need make no apology for long letters : I 



114 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

am even with you. Many happy New Years to 
you, charming Clarinda ! I can't dissemble, were 
it to shun perdition. He who sees you as I have 
done, and does not love you, deserves to be 
damned for his stupidity ! He who loves you and 
would injure you, deserves to be doubly damned 
for his villany ! Adieu. 

Sylvander. 
P.S. — What would you think of this for a 
fourth stanza \ * 



LETTER XIII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

{January 5 th.~] 
Some days, some nights, nay, some hours, like 
the " ten righteous persons in Sodom," save the 
* The lines which followed have been torn off the original MS- 



SYLVANDER TO CLAR1NDA. 115 

rest of the vapid, tiresome, miserable months and 
years of life. One of these hours my dear Cla- 
rinda blest me with yesternight. 

" One well-spent hour, 

In such a tender circumstance for friends, 
Is better than an age of common time 1 " 

Thomson. 

My favourite feature in Milton's Satan is his 
manly fortitude in supporting what cannot be 
remedied, — in short, the wild broken fragments 
of a noble exalted mind in ruins. I meant no 
more by saying he was a favourite hero of mine. 

I mentioned to you my letter to Dr Moore, 
giving an account of my life : it is truth, every 
word of it ; and will give you the just idea of a 
man whom you have honoured with your friend- 
ship. I am afraid you will hardly be able to make 
sense of so torn a piece. Your verses I shall 
muse on — deliciously — as I gaze on your image, 
in my mind's eye, in niy heart's core : they will 
be in time enough for a week to come. I am 
truly happy your headache is better. O, how can 
pain or evil be so daringly, unfeelingly, cruelly 
savage, as to wound so noble a mind, so lovely a 
form ! 



116 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

My little fellow is all my namesake.* Write 
me soon. My every, strongest good wish attend 
you, Clarinda ! 

Sylvander. 

Saturday, Noon. 

1 know not what I have written. I am pestered 
with people around me. 



LETTER XIV. 

CLARINDA to sylvander. 

Monday Night, [January *ltli.~] 
I cannot delay thanking you for the packet of 
Saturday ; twice have I read it with close atten- 
tion. Some parts of it did beguile me of my tears. 
With Desdemona, I felt— " 'twas pitiful, 'twas 
wond'rous pitiful." When I reached the para- 
graph where Lord Glencairn is mentioned, I burst 
out into tears. 'Twas that delightful swell of the 

* This was one of the twins born in 1786, and the eldest of 
the Poet's family. He was, long after his father's death, placed 
in the Stamp Office in London by Lord Sidmouth ; from the 
duties of which he retired some years ago, and now resides in 
Dumfries-shire* 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 117 

heart which arises from a combination of the 
most pleasurable feelings. Nothing is so binding 
to a generous mind as placing confidence in it. 
I have ever felt it so. You seem to have known 
this feature in my character intuitively ; and, 
therefore, intrusted me with all your faults and 
follies. The description of your first love-scene 
delighted me. It recalled the idea of some tender 
circumstances which happened to myself, at the 
>;ame period of life — only mine did not go so far. 
Perhaps, in return, 111 tell you the particulars 
when we meet. Ah, my friend ! our early love 
emotions are surely the most exquisite. In riper 
years we may acquire more knowledge, sentiment, 
&c. ; but none of these can yield such rapture as 
the dear delusions of heart-throbbing youth ! 
Like yours, mine was a rural scene, too, which 
adds much to the tender meeting. But no more 
of these recollections. 

One thing alone hurt me, though I regretted 
many — your avowal of being an enemy to Calvin- 
ism. I guessed it was so by some of your pieces ; 
but the confirmation of it gave me a shock I 
could only have felt for one I was interested in. 

f 2 



118 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

You will not wonder at this, when I inform vou 
that I am a strict Calvinist, one or two dark tenets 
excepted, which I never meddle with. Like many- 
others, you are so, either from never having ex- 
amined it with candour and impartiality, or from 
having unfortunately met with weak professors, 
who did not understand it ; and hypocritical ones, 

who made it a cloak for their knaverv. Both of 

t/ 

these, I am aware, abound in country life ; nor 
am I surprised at their having had this effect upon 
your more enlightened understanding. I fear 
your friend, the captain of the ship, was of no 
advantage to you in this and many other respects. 
My dear Sylvander, I flatter myself you have 
some opinion of Clarinda's understanding. Her 
belief in Calvinism is not (as you will be apt to 
suppose) the prejudice of education. I was bred 
by my father in the Arminian principles. My 
mother, who was an angel, died when I was in my 
tenth year. She was a Calvinist, — was adored in 
her life, — and died triumphing in the prospect of 
immortality. I was too young, at that period, to 
know the difference ; but her pious precepts and 
example often recurred to my mind amidst the 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 119 

oiddiness and adulation of Miss in her teens. 
'Twas since I came to this town, five years ago, 
that I imbibed my present principles. They 
were those of a dear, yalued friend, in whose judg- 
ment and integrity I had entire confidence. I 
listened often to him, with delight, upon the sub- 
ject. My mind was docile and open to conviction. 
I resolved to investigate, with deep attention, that 
scheme of doctrine which had such happy effects 
upon him. Conviction of understanding, and 
peace of mind, were the happy consequences. Thus 
have I ffiven you a true account of mv faith. I 
trust my practice will ever correspond. Were I 
to narrate my past life as honestly as you have 
done, you would soon be convinced that neither 
of us could hope to be justified by our good works. 
If you have time and inclination, I should wish 
to hear your chief objections to Calvinism. They 
have been often confuted by men of great minds 
and exemplary lives, — but perhaps you never in- 
quired into these. Ah, Sylvander ! Heaven has 
not endowed you with such uncommon powers of 
mind to employ them in the manner you have 
done. This long, serious subject will, I know, 



120 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER* 

have one of three effects : either to make you 
laugh in derision — yawn in supine indifference — 
or set about examining the hitherto-despised sub- 
ject. Judge of the interest Clarinda takes in you 
when she affirms, that there are but few events 
could take place that would afford her the heart- 
felt pleasure of the latter. 

Read this letter attentivelv, and answer me at 
leisure. Do not be frightened at its gravity, — 
believe me, I can be as lively as you please. 
Though I wish Madam Minerva for my guide, I 
shall not be hindered from rambling sometimes in 
the fields of Fancy. I must tell you that I ad- 
mire your narrative, in point of composition, beyond 
all your other productions. — One thing I am 
afraid of; there is not a trace of friendship towards 
a female : now, in the case of Clarinda, this is the 
only " consummation devoutly to be wished." 

You told me you never had met with a wo- 
man who could love as ardently as yourself. I 
believe it ; and would advise you never to tie 
yourself, till you meet with such a one. Alas ! 
you'll find many who canna, and some who manna ; 
but to be joined to one of the former description 



CLARIXDA TO SYLVAXDER. 121 

would make you miserable. I think you had 
almost best resolve against wedlock : for unless a 
woman were qualified for the companion, the 
friend, and the mistress, she would not do for 
you. The last may gain Sylvander, but the 
others alone can keep him. Sleep, and want of 
room, prevent my explaining myself upon " in- 
fidelity in a husband,"" which made you stare at 
me. This, and other things, shall be matter for 
another letter, if you are not wishing this to be 
the last. If agreeable to you, Til keep the narra- 
tive till we meet. Adieu ! ; - Charming Clarinda " 
must e'en resign herself to the arms of Morpheus. 
Your true friend, 

Clarinda. 

P.8. — Don't detain the porter. Write when 
convenient. 

I am probably to be in your Square this after- 
noon, near two o'clock. If your room be to the 
street, I shall have the pleasure of giving you a 
nod. I have paid the porter, and you may do so 
when you write. I'm sure they sometimes have 
made us pay double. Adieu ! 

Tuesday Morning* 



122 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

LETTER XV. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[January RthJ] 
I am delighted, charming Olarinda, with your 
honest enthusiasm for religion. Those of either 
sex, but particularly the female, who are lukewarm 
in that most important of all things, " my 
soul, come not thou into their secrets ! " 

I feel myself deeply interested in your good 
opinion, and will lay before you the outlines of my 
belief: — fie who is our Author and Preserver, 
and will one day be our Judge, must be, — not for 
his sake, in the way of duty, but from the native 
impulse of our hearts, — the object of our reveren- 
tial awe and grateful adoration. He is almighty 
and all-bounteous ; we are weak and dependent : 
hence prayer and every other sort of devotion. 
" He is not willing that any should perish, but 
that all should come to everlasting life": con- 
sequently, it must be in every one's power to em- 
brace His offer of " everlasting life " ; otherwise 
he could not in justice condemn those who did 
not. A mind pervaded, actuated, and governed 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 123 

by purity, truth, and charity, though it does not 
merit heaven, yet is an absolutely-necessary pre- 
requisite, without which heaven can neither be 
obtained nor enjoyed ; and, by Divine promise, 
such a mind shall never fail of attaining " ever- 
lasting life " : hence the impure, the deceiving, 
and the uncharitable exclude themselves from 
eternal bliss, by their unfitness for enjoying it. 
The Supreme Being has put the immediate ad- 
ministration of all this — for wise and good ends 
known to himself — into the hands of Jesus Christ, 
a great Personage, whose relation to Him we can- 
not comprehend, but whose relation to us is a 
Guide and Saviour ; and who, except for our own 
obstinacy and misconduct, will bring us all, 
through various ways and by various means, to 
bliss at last. 

These are my tenets, my lovely friend ; and 
which, I think, cannot be well disputed. My 
creed is pretty nearly expressed in the last clause 
of Jamie Dean's grace, an honest weaver in Ayr- 
shire : — " Lord, grant that we may lead a gude 
life ! for a gude life maks a gude end : at least it 
helps weel." 



124 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

I am flattered by the entertainment you tell 
me you have found in my packet. You see me 
as I have been, you know me as I am, and may 
guess at what I am likely to be. I, too., may say, 
" Talk not of Love," &c. ; for, indeed, he has 
"plunged me deep in woe!" Not that I ever 
saw a woman who pleased unexceptionably, as my 
Clarinda elegantly says, " in the companion, the 
friend, and the mistress." One, indeed, I could 
except ; one, before passion threw its mists over 
my discernment, I knew, — the first of women ! 
Her name is indelibly written in my heart's core ; 
but I dare not look in on it, — a degree of agony 
would be the consequence. Oh, thou perfidious, 
cruel, mischief-making demon, who presidest o'er 
that frantic passion, — thou mayest, thou dost 
poison my peace, but shalt not taint my honour ! 
I would not for a single moment give an asylum 
to the most distant imagination that would shadow 
the faintest outline of a selfish gratification at 
the expense of her, whose happiness is twisted with 
the threads of my existence. May she be happy, 
as she deserves ! And if my tenderest, faithful- 
est friendship can add to her bliss, I shall, at 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 125 

least, have one solid mine of enjoyment in my 
bosom ! Dont guess at these ravings ! 

I watched at our front window to-day, but was 
disappointed. It has been a day of disappoint- 
ments. I am just risen from a two-hours' bout 
after supper, with silly or sordid souls who could 
relish nothing in common with me but the Port. 
" One ! " — 'Tis now the " witching time of night," 
and whatever is out of joint in the foregoing 
scrawl, impute it to enchantments and spells ; for 
I can't look over it, but will seal it up directly, as 
I don't care for to-morrow's criticisms on it. 

You are by this time fast asleep, Clarinda ; 
may good angels attend and guard you as con- 
stantly and as faithfully as my good wishes do ! 

" Beauty which, whether waking or asleep, 
Shot forth peculiar graces." 

John Milton, I wish thy soul better rest than I 
expect on my pillow to-night ! for a little of 
the cart-horse part of human nature ! Good 
night, my dearest Clarinda ! 

Sylvander. 
Tuesday Night. 



1 26 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

LETTER XVI. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Wednesday, 10 p. m., [January 9th.~] 
This moment your letter was delivered to me. 
My boys are asleep. The youngest has been for 
some time in a crazy state of health, but has been 
worse these two days past. Partly this and the 
badness of the day prevented my exchanging a 
heartfelt How d'ye, yesterday. Friday, if nothing 
prevents, I shall have that pleasure, about two 
o'clock, or a little before it. 

I wonder how you could write so distinctly after 
two or three hours over a bottle ; but they were 
not congenial whom you sat with, and therefore 
your spirits remained unexhausted ; and when 
quit of them, you fled to a friend who can relish 
most things in common with you (except Port.) 
'Tis dreadful what a variety of these *' silly, 
sordid" souls one meets with in life ! but in scenes 
of mere sociability these pass. In reading the 
account you give of your inveterate turn for social 
pleasure, I smiled at its resemblance to my own. 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 127 

It is so great, that I often think I had been a man 
but for some mistake of Nature. If you saw me 
in a merry party, you would suppose me only an 
enthusiast mftm; but I now avoid such parties. 
My spirits are sunk for days after ; and, what is 
worse, there are sometimes dull or malicious souls 
who censure me loudly for what their sluggish 
natures cannot comprehend. Were I possessed 
of an independent fortune, I would scorn their 
pitiful remarks ; but everything in my situation 
renders prudence necessary. 

I have slept little these two nights. My child 
was uneasy, and that kept me awake watching 
him ! Sylvander, if I have merit in anything, 
'tis in an unremitting attention to my two chil- 
dren ; but it cannot be denominated merit, since 
'tis as much inclination as duty. A prudent 
woman (as the world goes) told me she was sur- 
prised I loved them, " considering what a father 
they had." I replied with acrimony, I could not 
but love my children in any case ; but my having 
given them the misfortune of such a father, en- 
dears them doubly to my heart : they are inno- 
cent — they depend upon me — and I feel this the 



128 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

most tender of all claims. While I live, my 
fondest attention shall be theirs ! 

All my life I loved the unfortunate, and ever 
will. Did you ever read Fielding's Amelia ? If 
you have not, I beg you would. There are scenes 
in it, tender, domestic scenes, which I have read 
over and over, with feelings too delightful to 
describe ! I meant a " Booth," as such a one 
infinitely to be preferred to a brutal, though 
perhaps constant husband. I can conceive a 
man fond of his wife, yet, ( Sylvander-like,) 
hurried into a momentary deviation, while his 
heart remained faithful. If he concealed it, it 
could not hurt me ; but if, unable to bear the 
anguish of self-reproach, he unbosomed it to me, 
I would not only forgive him, but comfort and 
speak kindly, and in secret only weep. Recon- 
ciliation, in such a case, would be exquisite beyond 
almost anything I can conceive ! Do you now 
understand me on this subject ? I was uneasy 
till it was explained ; for all I have said, I know 
not if I had been an " Amelia," even with a 
" Booth." My resentments are keen, like all 
my other feelings : I am exquisitely alive to kind- 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 1 29 

ness and to unkindness. The first binds me for 
ever ! But I have none of the spaniel in my 
nature. The last would soon cure me, though I 
loved to distraction. But all this is not, perhaps, 
interesting to Sylvander. I have seen nobody 
to-day; and, like a true egotist, talk away to 
please myself. I am not in a humour to answer 
your creed to-night. 

I have been puzzling my brain about the fair 
one you bid me " not guess at." I first thought 
it your Jean ; but I don't know if she now 
possesses your " tenderest, faithfulest friendship.' 1 ' 
I can't understand that bonny lassie : her re- 
fusal, after such proofs of love, proves her to 
be either an angel or a dolt. I beg pardon ; I 
know not all the circumstances, and am no judge 
therefore. I love you for your continued fond- 
ness, even after enjoyment : few of your sex 
have souls in such cases. But I take this to 
be the test of true love — mere desire is all the 
bulk of people are susceptible of; and that is 
soon satiated. " Your good wishes. " You had 
mine, Sylvander, before I saw you. You will 
have them while I live. With you, I wish I had 
a little of the horse-cart in me. You and I have 



130 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

some horse properties ; but more of the eagle, and 
too much of the turtle dove ! Good night ! 

Your friend, 

Clarinda. 
Thursday Morning. 
This day is so good that Til make out my call 
to your Square. I am laughing to myself at 
announcing this for the third time. Were she 
who " poisons your peace," to intend you a Pisgah 
view, she could do no more than I have done on 
this trivial occasion. Keep a good heart, Syl- 
vander ; the eternity of your love-sufferings will 
be ended before six weeks. Such perjuries the 
" Laughing gods allow." But remember, there 
is no such toleration in friendship, and 
I am yours, 

Clarinda. 



LETTER XVII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

\January 10th.~] 
I am certain I saw you, Clarinda ; but you 
don't look to the proper story for a poet's lodging, 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 131 

"Where Speculation roosted near the sky." 
I could almost have thrown myself over, for very 
vexation. Why didn't you look higher? It has 
spoilt my peace for this day. To be so near my 
charming Clarinda ; to miss her look while it was 
searching for me. I am sure the soul is capable 
of disease ; for mine has convulsed itself into an 
inflammatory fever. I am sorry for your little 
boy : do let me know to-morrow how he is. 

You have converted me, Clarinda, (I shall love 
that name while I live : there is heavenly music 
in it.) Booth and Amelia I know well; Your 
sentiments on that subject, as they are on every 
subject, are just and noble. " To be feelingly 
alive to kindness and to un kindness,"' is a charm- 
ing female character. 

What I said in my last letter, the powers of fud- 
dling sociality only know for me. By yours, I under- 
stand my good star has been partly in my horizon, 
when I got wild in my reveries. Had that evil 
planet, which has almost all my life shed its bale- 
ful rays on my devoted head, been as usual in 
its zenith, I had certainly blabbed something 
that would have pointed out to you the dear 



1S2 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

object of my tenderest friendship, and, in spite of 
me, something more. Had that fatal informa- 
tion escaped me, and it was merely chance or kind 
stars that it did not, I had been undone ! You 
would never have written me, except, perhaps, 
once more ! O, I could curse circumstances! and 
the coarse tie of human laws which keeps fast 
what common sense would loose, and which bars 
that happiness itself cannot give — happiness which 
otherwise love and honour would warrant ! But 
hold — I shall make no more " hair-breadth "scapes. " 
My friendship, Clarinda, is a life-rent business. 
My likings are both strong and eternal. I told 
you I had but one male friend : I have but two 
female. I should have a third, but she is sur- 
rounded by the blandishments of flattery and 
courtship. Her I register in my heart's core by 
Peggy Chalmers : * Miss Nimmo can tell you 
how divine she is. She is worthy of a place in 

* Miss Margaret Chalmers was a highly-valued friend of 
Burns, with whom he corresponded, and upon whom he wrote 
one or two songs. In 1788 she married Mr Lewis Hay, a 
partner in the Banking-house of Sir William Forbes & Co. She 
resided many years at Pau, in Berne, where she died at an ad- 
vanced age in the spring of 1843. 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 133 

the same bosom with my Clarinda. That is the 
highest compliment I can pay her. Farewell, 
Clarinda ! Remember 

Sylvakdeb. 

Thursday, Noon, 



LETTER XVIII. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Thursday Eve, {January 10.] 
I could not see you, Sylvander, though I had 
twice traversed the Square. I'm persuaded you 
saw not me neither. I met the young lady I 
meant to call for first ; and returned to seek an- 
other acquaintance, but found her moved. All 
the time, my eye soared to poetic heights, alias 
garrets, but not a glimpse of you could I obtain ! 
You surely was within the glass, at least. I re- 
turned, finding my intrinsic dignity a good deal 
hurt, as I missed my friend. Perhaps I shall 
see you again next week : say how high you are. 
Thanks for your inquiry about my child ; his 
complaints are of a tedious kind, and require 

G 



134 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

patience and resignation. Religion has taught me 
both. By nature I inherit as little of them as a 
certain harum-scarum friend of mine. In what 
respects has Clarinda " converted you " I Tell 
me. It were an arduous task indeed ! 

Your " ravings" last night, and your ambiguous 
remarks upon them, I cannot, perhaps ought not 
to comprehend. I am your friend, Sylvander : 
take care lest virtue demand even friendship as a 
sacrifice. You need not curse the tie of human 
laws ; since what is the happiness Clarinda would 
derive from being loosed ? At present, she enjoys 
the hope of having her children provided for. In 
the other case, she is left, indeed, at liberty, but 
half dependent on the bounty of a friend, — kind 
in substantial, but having no feelings of romance : 
and who are the generous, the disinterested, who 
would risk the world's " dread laugh" to protect 
her and her little ones I Perhaps a Sylvander- 
like son of " whim and fancy" might, in a sudden 
fit of romance : but would not ruin be the conse- 
quence ? Perhaps one of the former * * * 
yet if he was not dearer to her than all the 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 135 

world — such are still her romantic ideas — she 
could not be his. 

You see, Sylvander, you have no cause to re- 
gret my bondage. The above is a true picture. 
Have I not reason to rejoice that I have it not in 
my power to dispose of myself? " I commit my- 
self into thy hands, thou Supreme Disposer of all 
events ! do with me as seemeth to thee good." 
Who is this one male friend ? I know your third 
female. Ah, Sylvander ! many " that are first 
shall be last," and vice versa ! I am proud of being 
compared to Miss Chalmers : I have heard how 
amiable she is. She cannot be more so than Miss 
Nimmo : why do ye not register her also ? She 
is warmly your friend ; — surely you are incapable 
of ingratitude. She has almost wept to me at 
mentioning your intimacy with a certain famous 
or infamous man in town. Do you think Clarinda 
could anger you just now ? I composed lines ad- 
dressed to you some time ago, containing a hint 
upon the occasion. I had not courage to send 
them then : if you say you'll not be angry, I will 
yet. 

I know not how 'tis, but I felt an irresistible 



136 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

impulse to write you the moment I read yours. 
I have a design in it. Part of your interest in 
me is owing to mere novelty. You'll be tired of 
my correspondence ere you leave town, and will 
never fash to write me from the country. I for- 
give you in a " state of celibacy."- Sylvander, I 
wish I saw you happily married : you are so 
formed, you cannot be happy without a tender 
attachment. Heaven direct you ! 

When you see Bishop Geddes,* ask him if he 
remembers a lady at Mrs Kemp's, on a Sunday 
night, who listened to every word he uttered with 
the gaze of attention. I saw he observed me, 
and returned that glance of cordial warmth which 
assured me he was pleased with my delicate flat- 

* Bishop Geddes was the first clergyman of the Roman Catholic 
persuasion who had the degree of LL.D. conferred upon him 
after the Reformation. This took place in 1779; and redounds 
to the honour of the University of Aberdeen. 

Soon afterwards, Bishop Geddes removed to London, and de- 
voted himself to a new translation of the Scriptures, under the 
patronage of Lord Petre. Having, in the course of his studies, 
seen cause to change some of his views respecting scriptural 
authority and doctrine, he was viewed with distrust by those 
who considered themselves orthodox. 

Bishop Geddes was a man of talents and learning, and pub- 
lished various works. He died in 1802. 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 137 

tery. I wished that night he had been my father, 
that I might shelter me in his bosom. 

You shall have this, as you desired, to-morrow; 
and, if possible, none for four or five days. I say, 
if possible : for I really can't but write, as if I had 
nothing else to do. I admire your Epitaph ; but 
while I read it, my heart swells at the sad idea of 
its realization. Did you ever read Sancho's 
Letters 2 they would hit your taste. My next will 
be on my favourite theme— religion. 

Farewell, Sylvander ! Be wise, be prudent, and 
be happy. 

Clarinda. 

Let your next be sent in the morning. 

If you were well, I would ask you to meet 
me to-morrow, at twelve o'clock. I go down in 
the Leith Fly, with poor Willie : what a pleasant 
chat we might have ! But I fancy 'tis impossible. 
Adieu ! 

Friday, One o'clock. 



138 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

LETTER XIX. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Saturday Morning, {January 12.] 
Your thoughts on religion, Clarinda, shall be 
welcome. You may perhaps distrust me when I 
say 'tis also my favourite topic ; but mine is the 
religion of the bosom. I hate the very idea of 
controversial divinity ; as I firmly believe that 
every honest, upright man, of whatever sect, will 
be accepted of the Deity. If your verses, as you 
seem to hint, contain censure, except you want an 
occasion to break with me, don't send them. I 
have a little infirmity in my disposition, that 
where I fondly love or highly esteem I cannot 
bear reproach. 

" Reverence thyself," is a sacred maxim ; and I 
wish to cherish it. I think I told you Lord 
Bolingbroke's saying to Swift,— u Adieu, dear 
Swift ! with all thy faults I love thee entirely : 
make an effort to love me with all mine." A 
glorious sentiment, and without which there can 
be no friendship ! I do highly, very highly, 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 139 

esteem you indeed, Clarinda : you merit it all ! 
Perhaps, too — I scorn dissimulation — I could 
fondly love you : judge, then, what a maddening 
sting your reproach would be. " Oh, I have sins 
to heaven, but none to you." With what pleasure 
would I meet you to-day, but I cannot walk to 
meet the Fly. I hope to be able to see you, on 
foot, about the middle of next week. I am inter- 
rupted — perhaps you are not sorry for it. You 
will tell me : but I won't anticipate blame. 0, 
Clarinda ! did you know how dear to me is your 
look of kindness, your smile of approbation, you 
w T ould not, either in prose or verse, risk a censori- 
ous remark. 

" Curst be the verse, how well soe'er it flow. 
That tends to make one worthy man my foe." 

Sylvander.* 



* Between this and the ensuing letter there was probably 
one of Clarinda's, now lost. 



140 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

LETTER XX. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[January 12.] 
You talk of weeping, Clarinda : some involun- 
tary drops wet your lines as I read them. Offend 
me, my dearest angel ! You cannot offend me, — 
you never offended me. If you had ever given 
me the least shadow of offence, so pardon me my 
God as I forgive Clarinda* I have read yours 
again ; it has blotted my paper. Though I find 
your letter has agitated me into a violent head- 
ache, I shall take a chair and be with you about 
eight. A friend is to be with us at tea, on my 
account, which hinders me from coming sooner. 
Forgive, my dearest Clarinda, my unguarded ex- 
pressions ! For Heaven's sake, forgive me, or I 
shall never be able to bear my own mind. 
Your unhappy 

Sylvander. 



CLAR1NDA TO SYLVANDER. 141 

LETTER XXI. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Sunday Evening, {January 13.] 
I will not deny it, Sylvander, last night was 
one of the most exquisite I ever experienced. 
Few such fall to the lot of mortals ! Few, ex- 
tremely few, are formed to relish such refined 
enjoyment. That it should be so, vindicates the 
wisdom of Heaven. But, though our enjoyment 
did not lead beyond the limits of virtue, yet to- 
day's reflections have not been altogether unmixed 
with regret. The idea of the pain it would have 
given, were it known to a friend to whom I am 
bound by the sacred ties of gratitude, (no more,) 
the opinion Sylvander may have formed from my 
unreservedness ; and, above all, some secret mis- 
givings that Heaven may not approve, situated 
as I am — these procured me a sleepless night ; 
and, though at church, I am not at all well. 

Sylvander, you saw Clarinda last night, behind 
the scenes ! Now, you'll be convinced she has 
faults. If she knows herself, her intention is 

g2 



1 42 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

always good ; but she is too often the victim of 
sensibility, and, hence, is seldom pleased with her- 
self. A rencontre to-day I will relate to you, 
because it will show you I have my own share of 
pride. I met with a sister of Lord Napier, at 
the house of a friend with whom I sat between 
sermons : I knew who she was ; but paid her no 
other marks of respect than I do to any gentle- 
woman. She eyed me with minute, supercilious 
attention, never looking at me, when I spoke, but 
even half interrupted me, before I had done ad- 
dressing the lady of the house. I felt my face 
glow with resentment, and consoled myself with 
the idea of being her superior in every respect 
but the accidental, trifling one of birth t I was 
disgusted at the fawning deference the lady showed 
her ; and when she told me at the door that it 
was my Lord Napier's sister, I replied, " Is it, 
indeed ? by her ill breeding I should have taken 
her for the daughter of some upstart tradesman ! " 
Sylvander, my sentiments as to birth and fortune 
are truly unfashionable : I despise the persons who 
pique themselves on either, — the former especially. 
Something may be allowed to bright talents, or 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 143 

even external beauty — these belong to us essen- 
tially ; but birth in no respect can confer merit, 
because it is not our own. A person of a vulgar 
uncultivated mind I would not take to my bosom, 
in any station ; but one possessed of natural 
genius, improved by education and diligence, such 
an one I'd take for my friend, be her extraction 
ever so mean. These, alone, constitute any real 
distinction between man and man. Are we not- 
all the offspring of Adam ? have we not one God ? 
one Saviour? one Immortality? I have found 
but one among all my acquaintance who agreed 
with me — my Mary,* whom I mentioned to you. 
I am to spend to-morrow with her, if I am better. 
I like her the more that she likes you. 

I intended to resume a little upon your favourite 
topic, the " Eeligion of the Bosom." Did you ever 
imagine that I meant any other ? Poor were that 
religion and unprofitable whose seat was merely in 

* Miss Mary Peacock, afterwards the second wife of Mr James 
Gray of the High School of Edinburgh. They were both inti- 
mate friends of Mrs M'Lehose for many years. 

Late in life Mr Gray went out to India, as a chaplain in the 
service of the East India Company. Honourable mention is made 
of them, in " Mrs Elwood's Overland Journey to India." 



144 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

the brain. In most points we seem to agree: only 
I found all my hopes of pardon and acceptance 
with Heaven upon the merit of Christ's atone- 
ment, — whereas you do upon a good life. You 
think " it helps weel, at least." If anything we 
could do had been able to atone for the violation 
of God's Law, where was the need (I speak it 
with reverence) of such an astonishing Sacrifice ? 
Job was an " upright man." In the dark season 
of adversity, when other sins were brought to his 
remembrance, he boasted of his integrity ; but no 
sooner did God reveal Himself to him, than he 
exclaims : " Behold I am vile, and abhor myself 
in dust and ashes." Ah ! my friend, 'tis pride 
that hinders us from embracing Jesus ! we would 
be our own Saviour, and scorn to be indebted even 
to the " Son of the Most High." But this is the 
only sure foundation of our hopes. It is said by 
God Himself, "'tis to some a stumbling-block: to 
others foolishness ;" but they who believe, feel it 
to be the " Wisdom of God, and the Power of God." 
If mv head did not ache, I would continue the 
subject. I, too, hate controversial religion ; but 
this is the " Religion of the Bosom." My God ! 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 145 

Sylvander, why am I so anxious to make you 
embrace the Gospel I I dare not probe too deep 
for an answer — let your heart answer: in a 
word — Benevolence. When I return, Fll finish 
this. Meantime, adieu ! Sylvander, I intended 
doing you good : if it prove the reverse, I shall 
never forgive myself. Good night. 

Tuesday, Noon. — Just returned from the Dean, 
where I dined and supped with fourteen of both 
sexes : all stupid. My Mary and I alone under- 
stood each other. However, we were joyous, and 
I sung in spite of my cold ; but no wit. 'T would 
have been pearls before swine literalized. I recol- 
lect promising to write you. Sylvander, you'll 
never find me worse than my word. If you have 
written me, (which I hope,) send it to me when con- 
venient, either at nine in the morning or evening. 
I fear your limb may be worse from staying so 
late. I have other fears too : guess them ! Oh ! 
my friend, I w T ish ardently to maintain your 
esteem ; rather than forfeit one iota of it, Td be 
content never to be wiser than now. Our last 
interview has raised you very high in mine. I 



146 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

have met with few, indeed, of your sex who under- 
stood delicacy in such circumstances ; yet 'tis 
that only which gives a relish to such delightful 
intercourse. Do you wish to preserve my esteem, 
Sylvander ? do not be proud to Olarinda ! She 
deserves it not. I subscribe to Lord B.'s senti- 
ment to Swift ; yet some faults I shall still sigh 
over, though you style it reproach even to hint 
them. Adieu ! You have it much in your power 
to add to the happiness or unhappiness of 

Clarinda. 



LETTER XXII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Monday Evening ', 11 o'clock, [Jan. 14^.] 
Why have I not heard from you, Clarinda? 
To-day I expected it ; and, before supper, when 
a letter to me was announced, my heart danced 
with rapture ; but behold, 'twas some fool who 
had taken into his head to turn poet, and made 
me an offering of the first fruits of his nonsense. 
It is not poetry, but " prose run mad.'" 



SYLVANDER TO CLAR1NDA. 147 

Did I ever repeat to you an epigram I made on 
a Mr. Elphinstone, who has given a translation 
of Martial, a famous Latin poet. The poetry of 
Elphinstone can only equal his prose notes. I 
was sitting in a merchant's shop of my acquain- 
tance, waiting somebody ; he put Elphinstone into 
my hand, and asked my opinion of it. I begged 
leave to write it on a blank leaf, which I did. 

TO Mr ELPHINSTONE, &c. 

" thou whom poesy abhors, 
Whom prose has turned out of doors, 
Heardst thou yon groan ? proceed no further, 
'Twas laurel'd Martial calling murther." 

I am determined to see you, if at all possible, 
on Saturday evening. Next week I must sing — 

" The night is my departing night, 
The morn's the day I maun awa : 
There's neither friend nor foe of mine, 
But wishes that I were awa. 

What I hae done for lack o' wit, 
I never, never can reca' ; 
I hope ye're a' my friends as yet. 
Gude night, and joy be wi' you a'." 

If I could see you sooner, I would be so much the 
happier; but I would not purchase the dearest 



148 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

gratification on earth, if it must be at your 
expense in worldly censure, far less inward peace. 
I shall certainly be ashamed of thus scrawling 
whole sheets of incoherence. The only unity (a 
sad word with poets and critics) in my ideas, is 
Clarinda. — There my heart " reigns and revels." 

" What art thou. Love ? whence are those charms, 

That thus thou bear'st an universal rule % 

For thee the soldier quits his arms, 

The king turns slave, the wise man fool. 

In vain we chase thee from the field, 

And with cool thoughts resist thy yoke ; 

Next tide of blood, alas ! we yield, 

And all those high resolves are broke ! " 

I like to have quotations ready for every occasion. 
They give one^s ideas so pat, and save one the 
trouble of finding expression adequate to one^s 
feelings. I think it is one of the greatest plea- 
sures attending a poetic genius, that we can give 
our woes, cares, joys, loves, &c, an embodied form 
in verse, which, to me, is ever immediate ease. 
Goldsmith says finely of his muse — 

" Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe ; 
Who found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so." 

My limb has been so well to-day, that I have 
gone up and down stairs often without my staff. 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 149 

To-morrow I hope to walk once again on my own 
legs to dinner. It is only next street. Adieu ! 

Sylvander. 



LETTER XXIII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Tuesday Evening, [January 15.] 
That you have faults, my Clarinda, I never 
doubted ; but I knew not where they existed ; and 
Saturday night made me more in the dark than 
ever. O, Clarinda ! why would you wound my 
soul, by hinting that last night must have lessened 
my opinion of you. True, I was behind the 
scenes with you ; but what did I see ? A bosom 
glowing with honour and benevolence ; a mind 
ennobled by genius, informed and refined by edu- 
cation and reflection, and exalted by native reli- 
gion, genuine as in the climes of Heaven ; a heart 
formed for all the glorious meltings of friendship, 
love, and pity. These I saw. I saw the noblest 
immortal soul creation ever showed me. 



150 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

I looked long, my dear Clarinda, for your letter; 
and am vexed that you are complaining. I have 
not caught you so far wrong as in your idea — that 
the commerce you have with one friend hurts you, 
if you cannot tell every tittle of it to another. 
Why have so injurious a suspicion of a good 
God, Clarinda, as to think that Friendship and 
Love, on the sacred, inviolate principles of Truth, 
Honour and Religion, can be anything else than 
an object of His divine approbation ? 

I have mentioned, in some of my former scrawls, 
Saturday evening next. Do allow me to wait on 
you that evening. Oh, my angel ! how soon must 
we part ! — and when can we meet again ? I look 
forward on the horrid interval with tearful eyes. 
What have not I lost by not knowing you sooner ! 
I fear, I fear, my acquaintance with you is too short 
to make that lasting impression on your heart I 
could wish. 

Sylvander. 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 151 

LETTER XXIV. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Wednesday Morning, {January 16th. ,] 
Your mother's wish was fully realized. I slept 
sounder last night than for weeks past — and I had 
a "blithe wakening ": for your letter was the first 
object my eyes opened on. Sylvander, I fancy 
you and Vulcan are intimates : he has lent you 
a key which opens Clarinda's heart at pleasure, 
shows you what is there, and enables you to adapt 
yourself to its every feeling ! I believe I shall 
give over writing you. Your letters are too 
much ! my way is, alas ! " hedged in " ; but had I, 
like Sylvander, " the world before me," I should 
bid him, if he had a friend that loved me, tell him 
to write as he does, and " that would woo me." 
Seriously, you are the first letter-writer I ever 
knew. I only wonder how you can be fashed 
with my scrawls. I impute it to partialities. 
Either to-morrow or Friday I shall be happy to 
see you. On Saturday, I am not sure of being 



152 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

alone, or at home. Say which you'll come? Come 
to tea if you please ; but eight will be an hour less 
liable to intrusions. I hope youll come afoot , 
even though you take a chair home. A chair is 
so uncommon a thing in our neighbourhood, it is 
apt to raise speculation — but they are all asleep 
by ten. I am happy to hear of your being able 
to walk — even to the next street. You are a con- 
summate flatterer; really my cheeks glow while 
I read your flights of Fancy. 1 fancy you see I 
like it, when you peep into the Eepository. I 
know none insensible to that "delightful essence." 
If I grow affected or conceited, you are alone to 
blame. Ah, my friend ! these are disgusting quali- 
ties ! but I am not afraid. I know any merit I have 
perfectly — but I know many sad counterbalances. 
Your lines on Elphinstone were clever, beyond 
anything I ever saw of the kind ; I know the 
character — the figure is enough to make one cry, 
Murder ! He is a complete pedant in language ; 
but are not you and I pedants in something else ? 
Yes, but in far superior things : Love, Friend- 
ship, Poesy, Religion ! Ah, Sylvander ! you have 
murdered Humility, and I can say thou didst it. 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 153 

You carry your warmth too far as to Miss Napier, 
(not Nairn;) yet I am pleased at it. She is sen- 
sible, lively, and well-liked they say. She was 
not to know Olarinda was "divine," and therefore 
kept her distance. She is comely, but a thick 
bad figure, — waddles in her pace, and has rosy 
cheeks. 

I hate myself for being satirical — hate me for 
it too. Ill certainly go to Miers to please you, 
either with Mary or Miss Nimmo. Sylvander, 
some most interesting parts of yours I cannot 
enter on at present. I dare not think upon part- 
ing — upon the interval ; but I am sure both are 
wisely ordered for our good. A line in return to 
tell me which night you'll be with me. " Lasting- 
impression ! " Your key might have shown you 
me better. Say, my lover, poet, and my friend, 
what day next month the Eternity will end? 
When you use your key, don't rummage too much, 
lest you find I am half as great a fool in the ten- 
der as yourself. Farewell ! Sylvander. I may 
sign, for I am already sealed your friend, 

Clarinda. 



154 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

LETTER XXV. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. . 

Sunday Night, {January 20^.] 

The impertinence of fools has joined with a 

return of an old indisposition to make me good 

for nothing to-day. The paper has lain before me 

all this evening to write to my dear Clarinda; but 

" Fools rush'd on fools, as waves succeed to waves." 

I cursed them in my soul : they sacrilegiously 
disturb my meditations on her who holds my 
heart. What a creature is man ! A little alarm 
last night and to-day that I am mortal, has made 
such a revolution in my spirits ! There is no 
philosophy, no divinity, comes half so home to 
the mind. 1 have no idea of courage that braves 
Heaven. "Tis the wild ravings of an imaginary 
hero in Bedlam. I can no more, Clarinda ; I can 
scarce hold up my head; but I am happy you 
don't know it, you would be so uneasy. 

Sylvander. 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 1 55 

Monday Morning, 
I am, my lovely friend, much better this morn- 
ing, on the whole ; but I have a horrid languor 
on my spirits. 

" Sick of the world and all its joy, 
My soul in pining sadness mourns ; 
Dark scenes of woe my mind employ, 
The past and present in their turns." 

Have you ever met with a saying of the great 
and likewise good Mr Locke, author of the famous 
Essay on the Human Understanding ? He wrote 
a letter to a friend, directing it " Not to be de- 
livered till after my decease." It ended thus,— 
" I know you loved me when living, and will pre- 
serve my memory now r I am dead. All the use 
to be made of it is, that this life affords no solid 
satisfaction, but in the consciousness of having 
done well, and the hopes of another life. Adieu ! 
I leave my best wishes with you. — J. Locke." 

Glarinda, may I reckon on your friendship for 
life ? I think I may. Thou Almighty Preserver 
of men ! Thy friendship, which hitherto I have too 
much neglected, to secure it shall, all the future 



156 SYLVANDER TO GLARINDA. 

days and nights of my life, be my steady care. 
The idea of my Clarinda follows : — 

" Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, 
Where, mix'd with God's, her loved idea lies." 

But I fear inconstancy, the consequent imper- 
fection of human weakness. Shall I meet with 
a friendship that defies years of absence and the 
chances and changes of fortune ? Perhaps " such 
things are." One honest man I have great hopes 
from that way; but who, except a romance writer, 
would think on a love that could promise for life, 
in spite of distance, absence, chance, and change, 
and that, too, with slender hopes of fruition ? 

For my own part, I can say to myself in both 
requisitions — " Thou art the man." I dare, in 
cool resolve, I dare declare myself that friend 
and that lover. If womankind is capable of such 
things, Clarinda is. I trust that she is ; and feel 
I shall be miserable if she is not. There is not 
one virtue which gives worth, or one sentiment 
which does honour to the sex, that she does not 
possess superior to any woman I ever saw : her 
exalted mind, aided a little, perhaps, by her situ- 
ation, is, I think, capable of that nobly-romantic 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 157 

love-enthusiasm. May I see you on Wednesday 
evening, my dear angel ? The next Wednesday 
again, will, I conjecture, be a hated day to us 
both. I tremble for censorious remarks, for your 
sake ; but in extraordinary cases, may not usual 
and useful precaution be a little dispensed with ' 
Three evenings, three swift-winged evenings, with 
pinions of down, are all the past — I dare not cal- 
culate the future. I shall call at Miss Nimmo to- 
morrow evening ; 'twill be a farewell call. 

I have written out my last sheet of paper, so 1 
am reduced to my last half sheet. What a 
strange, mysterious faculty is that thing called 
imagination ! We have no ideas almost at all, 
of another world ; but I have often amused my- 
self with visionary schemes of what happiness 
might be enjoyed by small alterations, alterations 
that we can fully enter to in this present state 
--tff existence. For instance : suppose you and I 
just as we are at present ; the same reasoning- 
powers, sentiments, and even desires ; the same 
fond curiosity for knowledge and remarking ob- 
servation in our minds ; and imagine our bodies 
free from pain, and the necessary supplies for the 



158 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

wants of nature at all times and easily within our 
reach. Imagine, further, that we were set free 
from the laws of gravitation, which bind us to 
this globe, and could at pleasure fly, without 
inconvenience, through all the yet unconjecturecl 
bounds of creation ; what a life of bliss should we 
lead in our mutual pursuit of virtue and know- 
ledge, and our mutual enjoyment of friendship 
and love ! 

I see you laughing at my fairy fancies, and 
calling me a voluptuous Mahometan ; but I am 
certain I should be a happy creature, beyond any- 
thing we call bliss here below : nay, it would be a 
paradise congenial to you too. Don't you see us 
hand in hand, or rather my arm about your lovely 
waist, making our remarks on Sirius, the nearest 
of the fixed stars ; or surveying a comet flaming 
innoxious by us, as we just now would mark the 
passing pomp of a travelling monarch; or, in a 
shady bower of Mercury or Venus, dedicating the 
hour to love, in mutual converse, relying honour, 
and revelling endearment, while the most exalted 
strains of poesy and harmony would be the ready , 
spontaneous language of our souls ! Devotion is 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 159 

the favourite employment of your heart ; so is it 
of mine : what incentives then to, and powers for 
reverence, gratitude, faith, and hope, in all the 
fervour of adoration andj praise to that Being, 
whose unsearchable wisdom, power, and goodness, 
so pervaded, so inspired, every sense and feeling ! 
By this time, I daresay, you will be blessing the 
neglect of the maid that leaves me destitute of 
paper. Sylvander. 



LETTER XXVL 

SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

Thursday Morning \ {Jan. 24.] 

" Unlavish Wisdom never works in vain." 

I have been tasking my reason, Clarinda, why 
a woman, who, for native genius, poignant wit, 
strength of mind, generous sincerity of soul, and 
the sweetest female tenderness, is without a 
peer ; and whose personal charms have few, very 
few parallels among her sex ; why, or how, she 



160 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

should fall to the blessed lot of a poor harum- 
scarum poet, whom Fortune had kept for her 
particular use to wreak her temper on, whenever 
she was in ill-humour. 

One time I conjectured that, as Fortune is the 
most capricious jade ever known, she may have 
taken, not a fit of remorse, but a paroxysm of whim, 
to raise the poor devil out of the mire where he had 
so often, and so conveniently, served her as a step- 
ping-stone, and given him the most glorious boon 
she ever had in her gift, merely for the maggot's 
sake, to see how his fool head and his fool heart 
will bear it. 

At other times, I was vain enough to think 
that Nature, who has a great deal to say with 
Fortune, had given the coquettish goddess some 
such hint as — " Here is a paragon of female ex- 
cellence, whose equal, in all my former compo- 
sitions, I never was lucky enough to hit on, and 
despair of ever doing so again : you have cast her 
rather in the shades of life. There is a certain 
poet of my making : among your frolics, it would 
not be amiss to attach him to this masterpiece of 
my hand, to give her that immortality among 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 161 

mankind, which no woman of any age ever more 
deserved, and which few rhymesters of this age 
are better able to confer.'" 

Evening, Nine o'clock. 
I am here — -absolutely unfit to finish my letter 
— pretty hearty, after a bowl which has been con- 
stantly plied since dinner till this moment. I 
have been with Mr Schetki the musician, and he 
has set the song * finely. I have no distinct ideas 

*TO CLARINDA. 

u Clarinda, mistress of my soul, 
The measured time is run ! 
The wretch beneath the dreary pole 
So marks his latest sun. 

To what dark cave of frozen night 
Shall poor Sylvander hie, 
Deprived of thee, his life and light — 
The sun of all his joy ? 

We part — but by those precious drops, 
That fill thy lovely eyes ! 
No other light shall guide my steps, 
Till thy bright beams arise. 

She, the fair sun of all her sex, 
Has blest my glorious day; 
And shall a glimmering planet fix 
My worship to its ray F 



1 62 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

of anything, but that I have drunk your health 
twice to-night, and that you are all my soul holds 
dear in this world. 

Sylvander. 



LETTER XXVII. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Thursday Forenoon, [January 24tth.'J 
Sylvander, the moment I waked this mornings 
I received a summons from Conscience to appear 
at the Bar of Reason. While I trembled before 
this sacred throne, I beheld a succession of figures 
pass before me in awful brightness f Religion, 
clad in a robe of light, stalked majestically along, 
her hair dishevelled, and in her hand the Scrip- 
tures of Truth, held open at these words — " If 
you love me, keep my commandments.'' 7 Repu- 
tation followed : her eyes darted indignation, 
while she waved a beautiful wreath of laurel, inter- 
mixed with flowers, gathered by Modesty in the 
Bower of Peace. Consideration held her bright 
mirror close to my eyes, and made me start at my 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 163 

own image ! Love alone appeared as counsel in my 
behalf. She was adorned with a veil, borrowed 
from Friendship, which hid her defects, and set 
off her beauties to advantage. She had no plea 
to offer, but that of being the sister of Friendship, 
and the offspring of Charity. But Eeason re- 
fused to listen to her defence, because she brought 
no certificate from the Temple of Hymen ! While 
I trembled before her, Reason addressed me in 
the following manner : — " Return to my paths, 
which alone are peace ; shut your heart against 
the fascinating intrusion of the passions ; take 
Consideration for your guide, and you will soon 
arrive at the Bower of Tranquillity.''' 

Sylvander, to drop my metaphor, I am neither 
w T ell nor happy to-day : my heart reproaches me 
for last night. If you wish Clarinda to regain 
her peace, determine against everything but what 
the strictest delicacy warrants. 

I do not blame you, but myself. I must not 
see you on Saturday, unless I find I can depend 
on myself acting otherwise. Delicacy, you know r , 
it was which won me to you at once : take care 
you do not loosen the dearest, most sacred tie that 



164 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

unites us ? Remember Clarinda's present and 
eternal happiness depends upon her adherence to 
Virtue. Happy Sylvander ! that can be attached 
to Heaven and Clarinda together. Alas ! I feel 
I cannot serve two masters. God pity me ! ! 

Thursday Night. 

Why have I not heard from you, Sylvander? 

Everything in nature seems tinged with gloom 

to-day. Ah! Sylvander — 

u The heart *s ay the part ay 
That makes us right or wrang !" 

How forcibly have these lines recurred to my 
thoughts ! Did I not tell you what a wretch love 
rendered me ? Affection to the strongest height, I 
am capable of, to a man of my Sylvanders merit — 
if it did not lead me into weaknesses and follies my 
heart utterly condemns. I am convinced, without 
the approbation of Heaven and my own mind, 
existence would be to me a heavy curse. Sylvan- 
der, why do not your Clarinda , s repeated levi- 
ties cure the too passionate fondness you express 
for her ? Perhaps it has a little removed esteem. 
But I dare not touch this string — it would fill up 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 165 

the cup of my present misery. Oh, Sylvander, 
may the friendship of that God, you and I have 
too much neglected to secure, be henceforth our 
chief study and delight. I cannot live deprived 
of the consciousness of His favour. I feel some- 
thing of this awful state all this day. Nay, 
while I approached God with my lips, my heart 
was not fully there. 

Mr Locke's posthumous letter ought to be writ- 
ten in letters of gold. — What heartfelt joy does 
the consciousness of having done well in any one 
instance confer ; and what agony the reverse ! 
Do not be displeased when I tell you I wish our 
parting was over. At a distance we shall retain 
the same heartfelt affection and interestedness in 
each other's concerns ; — but absence will mellow 
and restrain those violent heart-agitations which, 
if continued much longer, would unhinge my very 
soul, and render me unfit for the duties of life. 
You and I are capable of that ardency of love, for 
which the wide creation cannot afford an adequate 
object. Let us seek to repose it in the bosom of 
our God. Let us next give a place to those dear- 
est on earth — the tender charities of parent, sister, 

h2 



166 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

child ! I bid you good night with this short prayer 
of Thomson's — 

" Father of Light and Life, thou good Supreme ! 
Oh teach us what is good — teach us Thyself ! 
Save us from Folly, Vanity, and Vice," &c. 

Your letter — I should have liked had it con- 
tained a little of the last one's seriousness. Bless 
me! — You must not flatterso ; but it'sina "merry 
mood," and I make allowances. Part of some of 
your encomiums, I know I deserve ; but you are far 
out when you enumerate "strength of mind" among 
them. I have not even an ordinary share of it 
— every passion does what it will with me ; and 
all my life, I have been guided by the impulse of 
the moment — unsteady, and weak ! I thank you 
for the letter, though it sticket my prayer. Why 
did you tell me you drank away Reason, " that 
Heaven-lighted lamp in man "2 When Sylvan- 
der utters a calm, sober sentiment, he is never 
half so charming. I have read several of these in 
your last letter with vast pleasure. Good night ! 

Friday Morning. 
My servant (who is a good soul) will deliver 
you this. She is going down to Leith, and will 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 167 

return about two or three o'clock. I have ordered 
her to call then, in case you have ought to say to 
Clarinda to-day. I am better of that sickness at 
my heart I had yesterday ; but there's a sting re- 
mains, which will not be removed till I am at 
peace with Heaven and myself. Another inter- 
view, spent as we ought, will help to procure this. 
A day when the sun shines gloriously, always 
makes me devout ! I hope 'tis an earnest (to-day) 
of being soon restored to the "light of His coun- 
tenance," who is the source of love and standard 
of perfection. Adieu ! 

Clarinda. 



LETTER XXVIII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

\_January 25.] 

Clarinda, my life, you have wounded my soul. 

Can I think of your being unhappy, even though 

it be not described in your pathetic elegance of 

language, without being miserable ? Clarinda, can 



168 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

I bear to be told from you that " you will not see 
me to-morrow night — that you wish the hour of 
parting were come !" Do not let us impose on 
ourselves by sounds* If, in the moment of fond 
endearment and tender dalliance, I perhaps tres- 
passed against the letter of Decorum's law, I ap- 
peal, even to you, whether I ever sinned, in the 
very least degree^ against the spirit of her strictest 
statute i But why, my love, talk to me in such 
strong terms ; every word of which cuts me to the 
very soul ? You know a hint, the slightest signi- 
fication of your wish, is to me a sacred command. 
Be reconciled, my angel, to your God, yourself, 
and me ; and I pledge you Sylvanders honour — 
an oath, I daresay, you will trust without reserve, 
that you shall never more have reason to com- 
plain of his conduct. Now, my love, do not 
wound our next meeting with any averted looks 
or restrained caresses. I have marked the line of 
conduct — a line, I know, exactly to your taste — 
and which I will inviolably keep ; but do not 
you show the least inclination to make boundaries. 
Seeming distrust, where you know you may con- 
fide, is a cruel sin against sensibility. 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 169 

" Delicacy, you know, it was which won me to 
you at once : take care you do not loosen the 
dearest, most sacred tie that unites us." Clarinda, 
I would not have stung your soul — I would not 
have bruised your spirit, as that harsh crucifying 
" Take care " did mine ; no, not to have gained 
heaven ! Let me again appeal to your dear self, 
if Sylvander, even when he seemingly half trans- 
gressed the laws of decorum, if he did not show 
more chastised, trembling, faltering delicacy, than 
the many of the world do in keeping these laws ? 

Oh Love and Sensibility, ye have conspired 
against my Peace ! I love to madness, and I 
feel to torture ! Clarinda, how can I forgive my- 
self, that I have ever touched a single chord in 
your bosom with pain ! would I do it willingly I 
Would any consideration, any gratification, make 
me do so ? Oh, did you love like me, you would 
not, you could not, deny or put off a meeting 
with the man who adores you ; — who would die a 
thousand deaths before he would injure you ; and 
who must soon bid you a long farewell ! 

I had proposed bringing my bosom friend, Mr 
Ainslie, to-morrow evening, at his strong request, 



170 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

to see you ; as he has only time to stay with us 
about ten minutes, for an engagement. But I 
shall hear from you : this afternoon, for mercy's 
sake ! — for, till I hear from you, I am wretched. 
O Clarinda, the tie that binds me to thee is in- 
twisted, incorporated with my dearest threads of 
life ! 

Sylvander. 



LETTER XXIX. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[January 2Qth.~] 
I was on the way, my Love, to meet you, (I 
never do things by halves,) when I got your card. 
Mr Ainslie goes out of town to-morrow morning, 
to see a brother of his who is newly arrived from 
France. I am determined that he and I shall 
call on you together. So, look you, lest I should 
never see to-morrow, we will call on you to-night. 
Mary and you may put off tea till about seven, at 
which time, in the Galloway phrase, " an** the beast 
be to the fore, and the branks bide hale," expect 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 171 

the humblest of your humble servants, and his 
dearest friend. We only propose staying half an 
hour — " for ought we ken." I could suffer the 
lash of misery eleven months in the year, were 
the twelfth to be composed of hours like yester- 
night. You are the soul of my enjoyment ; all 
else is of the stuff of stocks and stones. 

Sylvander. 



LETTER XXX. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Sunday, Noon, [Jan. 2 h ith.~\ 
I have almost given up the Excise idea. I 
have been just now to wait on a great person, Miss 

"s friend, . Why will great people not 

only deafen us with the din of their equipage, and 
dazzle us with their fastidious pomp, but they 
must also be so very dictatorially wise ? I have 
been questioned like a child about my matters, 
and blamed and schooled for my Inscription on 
Stirling window. Come, Clarinda ! — " Come, 
curse me, Jacob ; come, defy me, Israel ! " 



172 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

Sunday Night, 
I have been with Miss Nimmo. She is, indeed, 
" a good soul," as my Clarinda finely says. She 
has reconciled me, in a good measure, to the 
world with her friendly prattle. 

Schetki has sent me the song, set to a fine air 
of his composing. I have called the song Cla- 
rinda : * I have carried it about in my pocket and 
thumbed it over all day. 

Monday Morning. 
If my prayers have any weight in heaven, this 
morning looks in on you and finds you in the 
arms of peace, except where it is charmingly in- 
terrupted by the ardours of devotion. I find so 
much serenity of mind, so much positive pleasure, 
so much fearless daring toward the world, when 
I warm in devotion, or feel the glorious sensation 
— a consciousness of Almighty friendship — that I 
am sure I shall soon be an honest enthusiast. 

" How are thy servants blest, Lord ! 
How sure is their defence ! 

* See page 161. 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 173 

Eternal wisdom is their guide, 
Their help Omnipotence." 

I am, my dear Madam, yours, 

Sylvander. 



LETTER XXXI. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Sunday r , Eight Evening, [27^.] 
Sylvander, when I think of you as my dearest 
and most attached friend, I am highly pleased ; 
but when you come across my mind as my lover, 
something within gives a sting resembling that of 
guilt. Tell me why is this? It must be from 
the idea that I am another's. What ! another's 
wife. Oh cruel Fate ! I am, indeed, bound in an 
iron chain. Forgive me, if this should give you 
pain. You know I must (I told you I must) tell 
you my genuine feelings, or be silent. Last night 
we were happy beyond what the bulk of mankind 
can conceive. Perhaps the "line" you had mark- 
ed was a little infringed, — it was really; but, 



174 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

though I disapprove, I have not been unhappy 
about it. I am convinced no less of your discern- 
ment, than of your wish to make your Olarinda 
happy. I know you sincere, when you profess 
horror at the idea of what would render her 
miserable for ever. Yet we must guard against 
going to the verge of danger. Ah ! my friend, 
much need had we to " watch and pray !" May 
those benevolent spirits, whose office it is to save 
the fall of Virtue struggling on the brink of Vice, 
be ever present to protect and guide us in right 
paths ! 

I had an hour's conversation to-day with my 
worthy friend Mr Kemp. * You'll attribute, 
perhaps, to this, the above sentiments. Tis true, 
there 's not one on earth has so much influence on 
me, except — Sylvander ; partly it has forced me 
" to feel along the Mental Intelligence." How- 
ever, IVe broke the ice. I confessed I had con- 
ceived a tender impression of late — that it was 

* The Reverend John Kemp, minister of the Tolbooth 
Church, Edinburgh ; a man of acknowledged acquirements and 
ability, and of high standing in society. He twice intermarried 
with the nobility. 



I 



CLARIKDA TO SYLVANDER. 175 

mutual, and that I had wished to unbosom my- 
self to him, (as I always did,) particularly to ask 
if he thought I should, or not, mention it to my 
friend ? I saw he felt for me, (for I was in tears ;) 
but he bewailed that I had given my heart while 
in my present state of bondage ; wished I had 
made it friendship only ; in short, talked to me 
in the style of a tender parent, anxious for my 
happiness. He disapproves altogether of my 
saying a syllable of the matter to my friend, — 
says it could only make him uneasy ; and that I 
am in no way bound to do it by any one tie. This 
has eased me of a load which has lain upon my 
mind ever since our intimacy. Sylvander, I wish 
you and Mr Kemp were acquainted, — such worth 
and sensibility ! If you had his piety and sobriety 
of manners, united to the shining abilities you 
possess, you'd be " a faultless monster which the 
world ne'er saw." He, too, has great talents. 
His imagination is rich — his feelings delicate — 
his discernment acute ; yet there are shades in his, 
as in all characters : but these it would ill become 
Clarinda to point out. Alas ! I know too many 
blots in my own. 



176 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

Sylvander, I believe nothing were a more im- 
practicable task than to make you feel a little of 
genuine gospel humility. Believe me, I wish 
not to see you deprived of that noble fire of 
an exalted mind which you eminently possess. 
Yet a sense of your faults — a feeling sense of 
them ! — were devoutly to be wished. Tell me, 
did you ever, or how oft have you smote on 
your breast, and cried, " God be merciful to me a 
sinner" ? I fancy, once or twice, when suffering 
from the effects of your errors. Pardon me if I 
be hurting j^our " intrinsic dignity ;" it need not 
— even " divine Clarinda" has been in this mortal 
predicament. 

Pray, what does Mr Ainslie think of her? 
Was he not astonished to find her merely human ? 
Three weeks ago, I suppose you would have 
made him walk into her presence unshod : but one 
must bury even divinities when they discover 
symptoms of mortality ! — (Let these be interred 
in Sylvander's bosom.) 

My dearest friend, there are two wishes upper- 
most in my heart : to see you think alike with 
Clarinda on religion, and settled in some credit- 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 177 

able line of business. The warm interest 1 take 
in both these, is, perhaps, the best proof of the 
sincerity of my friendship — as well as earnest 
of its duration. As to the first, I devolve it over 
into the hands of the Omniscient ! May he 
raise up friends who will effectuate the other ! 
While I breathe these fervent wishes, think not 
anything but pure disinterested regard prompts 
them. They are fond but chimerical ideas. They 
are never indulged but in the hour of tender en- 
dearment, when 

— " Innocence 



Looked gaily smiling on, while rosy Pleasure 
Hid young Desire amid her flowery wreath, 
And poured her cup luxuriant, mantling high 
The sparkling, Heavenly vintage — Love and Bliss." 

'Tis past ten — and I please myself with think- 
ing Sylvander will be about to retire, and write 
to Clarinda. I fancy you'll find this stupid 
enough ; but I can't be always bright — the sun 
will be sometimes under a cloud. Sylvander, I 
wish our kind feelings were more moderate ; why 
set one's heart upon impossibilities I Try me 
merely as your friend (alas, all I ought to be.) 



178 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

Believe me, you'll find me most rational. If you'd 
caress the " mental intelligence" as vou do the 
corporeal frame, indeed, Sylvander you'd make 
me a philosopher. I see you fidgeting at this 
violently, blasting rationality. I have a head- 
ache which brings home these things to the 
mind. To-morrow Til hear from you, I hope. 
This is Sunday, and not a word on our favourite 
subject. O fy, " divine Clarinda." I intend giv- 
ing you my idea of Heaven in opposition to your 
heathenish description, (which, by the by, was 
elegantly drawn.) Mine shall be founded on 
Reason and supported by Scripture ; but it's too 
late, my head aches, but my heart is affectionately 
yours. 

Monday Morning, 
I am almost not sorry at the Excise affair mis- 
giving. You will be better out of Edinburgh — 
it is full of temptation to one of your social turn. 
Providence (if you be wise in future) will 
order something better for you . I am half glad 
you were schooled about the Inscription ; 'twill 
be a lesson, I hope, in future. Clarinda would 



CLARIXDA TO SYLVANDER. 179 

have lectured you on it before, " if she dared." 
Miss Nimmo is a woman after my own heart. 
You are reconciled to the world by her " friendly 
prattle" ! How can you talk so diminutively of 
the conversation of a woman of solid sense ? what 
will you say of Clarinda's chit chat ? I suppose 
you would give it a still more insignificant term 
if you dared ; but it is mixed with something 
that makes it bearable, were it even weaker 
than it is. Miss Nimmo is right in both her 
conjectures. Ah, Sylvander ! my peace must 
suffer — yours cannot. You think, in loving 
Clarinda, you are doing right : all Sylvander's 
eloquence cannot convince me that it is so ! If I 
were but at liberty — Oh how 1 would indulge in all 
the luxury of innocent love ! It is, I fear, too late 
to talk in this strain, after indulging you and my- 
self so much ; but would Sylvander shelter his 
Love in Friendship's allowed garb, Clarinda would 
be far happier. 

To-morrow, didst thou say ? The time is short 
now — is it not too frequent \ do not sweetest 
dainties cloy soonest \ Take your chance — come 
half-past eight. If anything particular occur 



180 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

to render it improper to-morrow, 111 send you 

word, and name another evening. Mr is 

to call to-night, I believe. He, too, trembles 
for my peace. Two such worthies to be interested 
about my foolish ladyship ! The Apostle Paul, 
with all his rhetoric, could not reconcile me to 
the great (little souls) when I think of them and 
Sylvander together ; but I pity them. 

" If e'er ambition did my fancy cheat, 
With any wish so mean, as to be great, 
Continue, Heaven, far from me to remove 
The humble blessings of that life I love." 

Till we meet, my dear Sylvander, adieu ! 

Clarinda. 



LETTER XXXII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Sunday Morning^ [27th January.^ 
I have just been before the throne of my God, 
Clarinda. According to my association of ideas, 
my sentiments of love and friendship, I next de- 
vote myself to you. Yesternight I was happy — 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 181 

happiness " that the world cannot give." I kindle 
at the recollection ; but it is a flame where Inno- 
cence looks smiling on, and Honour stands by, a 
sacred guard. Your heart, your fondest wishes, 
your dearest thoughts, these are yours to bestow : 
your person is unapproachable, by the laws of 
your country ; and he loves not as I do who would 
make you miserable. 

You are an angel, Clarinda : you are surely no 
mortal that " the earth owns." To kiss your 
hand, to live on your smile, is to me far more ex- 
quisite bliss, than any the dearest favours that the 
fairest of the sex, yourself excepted, can bestow. 

Sunday Evening. 
You are the constant companion of my thoughts. 
How wretched is the condition of one who is 
haunted with conscious guilt, and trembling un- 
der the idea of dreaded vengeance ! And what a 
placid calm, what a charming secret enjoyment is 
given to one's bosom by the kind feelings of friend- 
ship, and the fond throes of love ! Out upon the 
tempest of Anger, the acrimonious gall of fretful 
Impatience, the sullen frost of lowering Resent- 



182 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

meat, or the corroding poison of withered Envy ! 
They eat up the immortal part of man ! If they 
spent their fury only on the unfortunate objects 
of them, it would be something in their favour ; 
but these miserable passions, like traitor Iscariot, 
betray their Lord and Master. 

Thou Almighty Author of peace, and goodness, 
and love ! do Thou give me the social heart that 
kindly tastes of every man's cup ! Is it a draught 
of joy ? — warm and open my heart to share it with 
cordial, unen vying rejoicing ! Is it the bitter 
potion of sorrow ? — melt my heart with sincerely 
sympathetic w T oe ! Above all, do Thou give me 
the manly mind, that resolutely exemplifies in life 
and manners those sentiments which I would 
wish to be thought to possess ! The friend of my 
soul — there may I never deviate from the firmest 
fidelity and most active kindness ! Clarinda, the 
dear object of my fondest love; there, may the 
most sacred, inviolate honour, the most faithful, 
kindling constancy, ever watch and animate my 
every thought and imagination ! 

Did you ever meet the following lines spoken 
of Religion, your darling topic ? — 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 183 

u Tis tMs, my friend, that streaks our morning bright ! 

'Tis this that gilds the horror of our night ! 

When wealth forsakes us, and when friends are few; 

When friends are faithless, or when foes pursue ; 

'Tis this that wards the blow or stills the smart, 

Disarms affliction, or repels its dart : 

Within the breast bids purest rapture rise, 

Bids smiling Conscience spread her cloudless skies." 

I Diet with these verses very early in life, and 
was so delighted with them that I have them by 
me, copied at school. 

Good night, and sound rest, 

My dearest Clarinda. 

Sylvander. 



LETTER XXXIII. 
CLARINDA to sylvander. 

Wednesday Evening, Nine, [Jan. 30.] 

There is not a sentiment in your last dear 

letter but must meet the approbation of every 

worthy discerning mind — except one — " that my 

heart, my fondest wishes, " are mine to bestow. 



184 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

True, they are not, they cannot be placed upon 
him who ought to have had them, but whose 
conduct, (I dare not say more against him,) has 
justly forfeited them. But is it not too near an 
infringement of the sacred obligations of marriage 
to bestow one's heart, wishes, and thoughts upon 
another ? Something in my soul whispers that it 
approaches criminality. I obey the voice. Let 
me cast every kind feeling into the allowed bond 
of Friendship. If "'tis accompanied with a shadow 
of a softer feeling, it shall be poured into the 
bosom of a merciful God ! If a confession of my 
warmest, tenderest friendship does not satisfy 
you, duty forbids Olarinda should do more ! Syl- 
vander, I never expect to be happy here below ! 
Why was I formed so susceptible of emotions 
I dare not indulge ? Never were there two hearts 
formed so exactly alike, as ours ! No wonder our 
friendship is heightened by the " sympathetic 
glow." In reading your Life, I find the very 
first poems that hit your fancy, were those that 
first engaged mine. While almost a child, the 
hymn you mentioned, and another of Addison's, 
" When all thy mercies,'" &c, were my chief fa- 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 185 

vourites. They are much so to this hour ; and 
I make my boys repeat them every Sabbath day. 
When about fifteen, I took a great fondness for 
Pope's " Messiah," which I still reckon one of 
the sublimest pieces I ever met with. 

Sylvander, I believe our friendship will be last- 
ing ; its basis has been virtue, similarity of tastes, 
feelings, and sentiments. Alas ! I shudder at the 
idea of an hundred miles distance. You'll hardly 
write me once a-month, and other objects will 
weaken your affection for Clarinda, Yet I cannot 
believe so. Oh, let the scenes of Nature remind 
you of Clarinda ! In winter, remember the dark 
shades of her fate ; in summer, the warmth, the 
cordial warmth, of her friendship ; in autumn, her 
glowing wishes to bestow plenty on all ; and let 
spring animate you with hopes, that your friend 
may yet live to surmount the wintry blasts of life, 
and revive to taste a spring-time of happiness ! 
At all events, Sylvander, the storms of life will 
quickly pass, and " one unbounded spring encircle 
all." There, Sylvander, I trust we'll meet. Love, 
there, is not a crime. I charge you to meet me 
there — Oh, God ! -I must lay down my pen. 



186 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 



-I repent, almost, flattering your writing 



talents so much : I can see you know all the 
merit you possess. The allusion of the key is 
true — therefore I won't recant it ; but I rather 
was too humble about my own letters. I have 
met with several who w r rote worse than myself, 
and few, of my own sex, better ; so I don't give 
you great credit for being fashed with them. 

Sylvander, I have things with different friends 
I can't tell to another, yet am not hurt ; but I 
told you of that particular friend : he was, for 
near four years, the one I confided in. He is 
very worthy, and answers your description in the 
" Epistle to J. S." exactly. When I had hardly 
a friend to care for me in Edinburgh, he befriended 
me. I saw, too soon, 'twas with him a warmer 
feeling : perhaps a little infection was the natural 
effect. I told you the circumstances which helped 
to eradicate the tender impression in me ; but I 
perceive (though he never tells me so) — I see it in 
every instance — his prepossession still remains. 
I esteem him as a faithful friend ; but I can 
never feel more for him. I fear he's not convinced 
of that. He sees no man with me half so often 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 187 

as himself; and thinks I surely am at least par- 
tial to no other. I cannot bear to deceive one in 
so tender a point, and am hurt at his harbouring 
an attachment I never can return. I have 
thoughts of owning my intimacy with Sylvander ; 
but a thousand things forbid it. I should be tor- 
tured with Jealousy, that " green-eyed monster ; " 
and, besides, I fear 'twould wound his peace. Tis 
a delicate affair. I wish your judgment on it. O 
Sylvander, I cannot bear to give pain to any crea- 
ture, far less to one who pays me the attention of 
a brother ! 

I never met with a man congenial, perfectly 
congenial to myself but one — ask no questions. 
Is Friday to be the last night ? I wish, Sylvander, 
you'd steal awav — I cannot bear farewell ! I can 
hardly relish the idea of meeting — for the idea ! 
but we will meet again, at least in Heaven, I 
hope. Sylvander, when I survey myself, my re- 
turning weaknesses, I am consoled that my hopes, 
my immortal hopes, are founded in the complete 
righteousness of a compassionate Saviour. " In 
all our afflictions, He is afflicted, and the angel of 
His presence guards us." 



188 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

I am charmed with the Lines on Religion, 
and with you for relishing them. I only wish the 
world saw you, as you appear in your letters to 
me. Why did you send forth to them the " Holy 
Fair," &c. ? Had Clarinda known you, she 
w r ould have held you in her arms till she had 
your promise to suppress them. Do not publish 
the " Moor Hen." Do not, for your sake, and 
for mine. I wish you vastly to hear my valued 
friend, Mr Kemp. Come to hear him on Sunday 
afternoon, 'lis the first favour I have asked you : 
I expect you'll not refuse me. You'll easily get 
a seat. Your favourite, Mr Gould, I admired 
much. His composition is elegant indeed ! — but 
'tis like beholding a beautiful superstructure built 
on a sandy foundation : 'tis fine to look upon ; 
but one dares not abide in it with safety. Mr 
Kemp's language is very good, — perhaps not such 
studied periods as Mr G.'s ; but he is far more 
animated. He is pathetic in a degree that touches 
one's soul ! and then, 'tis all built upon a rock. 

I could chide you for the Parting Song. It 
wrings my heart. " You may reca' " — by being 
wise in future — " your friend as yet." I will 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 189 

be your friend for ever ! Good night ! God bless 
you ! prays 

Clarinda. 

Thursday, Noon. 
I shall go to-morrow forenoon to Miers * alone : 
'tis quite a usual thing I hear. Mary is not in 
town ; and I don't care to ask Miss Nimmo, or 
anybody else. What size do you want it about ? 
O Sylvander, if you wish my peace, let Friend- 
ship be the word between us : I tremble at more. 
" Talk not of Love," &c. To-morrow I'll expect 
you. Adieu ! 

Clarinda. 

* Miers was a miniature painter of that time. A profile of 
Burns by him appears in Hogg and Motherwell's edition of the 
Poet's Works. 



i 2 



190 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

LETTER XXXIV. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Thursday Night , [January 31.] 
I cannot be easy, my Clarinda, while any sen- 
timent respecting me in your bosom gives you 
pain. If there is no man on earth to whom your 
heart and affections are justly due, it may savour 
of imprudence, but never of criminality, to bestow 
that heart and those affections where you please* 
The God of love meant and made those delicious 
attachments to be bestowed on somebody ; and 
even all the imprudence lies in bestowing them on 
an unworthy object. If this reasoning is conclu- 
sive, as it certainly is, I must be allowed to " talk 
of We." 

It is, perhaps, rather wrong to speak highly to 
a friend of his letter : it is apt to lay one under 
a little restraint in their future letters, and re- 
straint is the death of a friendly epistle ; but there 
is one passage in your last charming letter, Thom- 
son nor Shenstone never exceeded it, nor often 
came up to it. I shall certainly steal it, and set 



SYLVAXDER TO CLARINDA. 191 

it ill some future poetic production, and get im- 
mortal fame by it. 'Tis when you bid the scenes 
of nature remind me of Clarinda. Can I forget 
you, Clarinda ; I would detest myself as a taste- 
less, unfeeling, insipid, infamous blockhead ! I 
have loved women of ordinary merit, w T hom I 
could have loved for ever. You are the first, the 
only unexceptionable individual of the beauteous 
sex that I ever met with ; and never woman more 
entirely possessed my soul. I know r myself, and 
how far I can depend on passions, well. It has 
been my peculiar study. 

I thank vou for £oino* to Miers. Uro-e him, 
for necessity calls, to have it done by the middle 
of next week : Wednesday the latest day. I want 
it for a breast-pin, to wear next my heart. I 
propose to keep sacred set times, to wander in 
the woods and wilds for meditation on you. 
Then, and only then, your lovely image shall be 
produced to the day, with a reverence akin to de- 
votion. 



1 92 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

To-morrow night shall not be the last. Good 
night ! I am perfectly stupid, as I supped late 
yesternight, 

Sylvander. 



LETTER XXXV. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Saturday Evening, [February 2d 7 .'] 
I am wishing, Sylvander, for the power of look- 
ing into your heart. It would be but fair— for 
you have the key of mine. You are possessed of 
acute discernment. I am not deficient either in 
that respect. Last night must have shown you 
Clarinda not " divine " — but as she really is. I 
can't recollect some things I said without a degree 
of pain. Nature has been kind to me in several 
respects ; but one essential she has denied me en- 
tirely : it is that instantaneous perception of fit 
and unfit, which is so useful in the conduct of 
life. No one can discriminate more accurately 
afterwards than Clarinda. But when her heart 
is expanded by the influence of kindness, she loses 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 193 

all command of it, and often suffers severely in 
the recollection of her unguardedness. You must 
have perceived this ; but, at any rate, I wish you 
to know me, as " I really am." I would have given 
much for society to-day ; for I can't bear my own : 
but no human being has come near me. Well as 
I like you, Sylvander, I would rather lose your 
love, than your esteem : the first I ought not to 
wish ; the other I shall ever endeavour to maintain. 
But no more of this : you prohibit it, and I obey. 
For many years, have I sought for a male 
friend, endowed with sentiments like yours ; one 
who could love me with tenderness, yet unmixed 
with selfishness : who could be my friend, com- 
panion, protector, and who w T ould die sooner than 
injure me. I sought — but I sought in vain ! 
Heaven has, I hope, sent me this blessing in my 
Sylvander ! Whatever weaknesses may cleave to 
Clarinda, her heart is not to blame : whatever it 
may have been by nature, it is unsullied by art. 
If she dare dispose of it — last night can leave you 
at no loss to guess the man : 

" Then, dear Sylvander, use it weel, 
An' row it in your bosom's biel; 



194 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

Ye'll find it aye baith kind and leal, 

And fou o' glee ; 
It wad nae wrang the vera deil, — 

Ah, far less thee !" 

How do you like this parody on a passage of 
my favourite poet ? — it is extempore — from the 
heart ; and let it be to the heart. I am to enclose 
the first fruits of my muse, " To a Blackbird." * It 
has no poetic merit ; but it bespeaks a sweet femi- 
nine mind — such a one as I wish mine to be ; but 
my vivacity deprives me of that softness which is, 
in my opinion, the first female ornament. It was 
written to soothe an aching heart. I then laboured 
under a cruel anguish of soul, which I cannot tell 
you of. If I ever take a walk to the Temple of 
H— — , Til disclose it ; but you and I (were it 
even possible) would " fall out by the way." The 
lines on the Soldier were occasioned by reading a 
book entitled the " Sorrows of the Heart." Miss 
Nimmo was pleased with them, and sent them to 
the gentleman. They are not poetry, but they 
speak what I felt at a survey of so much filial 
tenderness. 

* See Appendix. 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 195 

I agree with you in liking quotations. If they 
are apt, they often give one's ideas more pleasantly 
than our own language can at all times. I am 
stupid to-night. I have a soreness at my heart. I 
conclude, therefore, w T ith a verse of Goldsmith, 
which, of late, has become an immense favourite 
of mine : — 

In Nature's simplest habit clad, 
No wealth nor power had he ; 
Genius and worth were all he had, 
But these were all to me. 

Good night, " my dear Sylvander ;" say this 
(like Werter) to yourself. 

Your Clarinda. 

Sunday Evening. 
I would have given much, Sylvander, that you 
had heard Mr Kemp this afternoon. You would 
have heard my principles, and the foundation 
of all my immortal hopes, elegantly delivered. 
u Let me live the life of the righteous, and mv 
latter end be like his," was the text. Who are 
the righteous I " Those," says Sylvander, " whose 
minds are actuated and governed by purity, truth, 
and charity." But where does such a mind 



1 96 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

exist ? It must be where the " soul is made per- 
fect," for I know none such on earth. " The 
righteous," then, must mean those who believe in 
Christ, and rely on his perfect righteousness for 
their salvation. " Everlasting" life, as you ob- 
serve, it is in the power of all to embrace ; and this 
is eternal life, to " believe in Him whom God 
hath sent." Purity, truth, and charity will flow 
from this belief, as naturally as the stream from 
the fountain. These are, indeed, the only evi- 
dences we can have of the reality of our faith ; 
and they must be produced in a degree ere we can 
be fit for the enjoyment of Heaven. But where is 
the man who dare plead these before " Infinite 
Holiness " ? Will Inflexible Justice pardon our 
thousand violations of his laws ? Will our imper- 
fect repentance and amendments atone for past 
guilt? or, will we presume to present our best 
services (spotted as they are) as worthy of accep- 
tance before Unerring Rectitude ? I am astonish- 
ed how any intelligent mind, blessed with a divine 
revelation, can pause a moment on the subject. 
" Enter not into judgment with me, O Lord ! in 
thy sight no flesh can be justified ! " This must 



CLARIXDA TO SYLYAXDER. 197 

be the result of every candid mind, upon survey- 
ing its own deserts. If God had not been pleased 
to reveal His own Son. as our all-sufficient Saviour, 
what could we have done but cried for mercy, 
without any sure hope of obtaining it I But when 
we have Him clearlv announced as our suretv, 
our guide, our blessed advocate with the Father, 
who, in their senses, ought to hesitate, in putting 
their souls into the hands of this glorious " Prince 
of Peace " ? Without this, we may admire the 
Creator in his works, but we can never approach 
him with the confidential tenderness of children. 
" I will arise; and go to my father."" This is the 
blessed language of every one who believes and 
trusts in Jesus. Oh, Sylvander, who would go 
on fighting with themselves, resolving and re- 
resolving, while they can thus fly to their Father's 
house ? But, alas ! it is not till we tire of these 
husks of our own, that we recollect that there, 
there is bread enough, and to spare. Whenever 
the wish is sincerely formed in our hearts, our 
Heavenly Father will have compassion upon us 
— " though a great way off." This is the " reli- 
gion of the bosom." I believe that there will be 



198 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

many of every sect, nation, and people, who will 
" stand before the throne" ; but I believe that it 
will be the effect of Christ's atonement, conveyed 
to them by ways too complicated for our finite 
minds to comprehend. But why should we, who 
know " the way, the truth, and the life," deprive 
ourselves of the comfort it is fitted to yield ? Let 
my earnest wish for your eternal, as well as tem- 
poral happiness, excuse the warmth with which I 
have unfolded what has been my own fixed point 
of rest. I want no controversy — I hate it ; let 
our only strivings be, who shall be the most con- 
stant and attached friend, — which of us shall ren- 
der our conduct most approved to the other. I 
am well aware how vain it were (vain in every 
sense of the expression) to hope to sway a mind 
so intelligent as yours, by any arguments* I could 
devise. May that God, who spoke worlds into 
existence, open your eyes to see " the truth, as it 
is in Jesus ! " Forgive me, Sylvander, if IVe been 
tedious upon my favourite theme. You know 
who it was, who could not stop when his divinity 
came across him. Even there you see we are con- 
genial. 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 199 

I'll tell you a pretty apt quotation I made 
to-day, warm from my heart. I met the Judges 
in the morning, as I went into the Parliament 
Square, among whom w r as Lord Dreghorn, * in 
his new robes of purple. He is my mother's 
cousin-german, the greatest real honour he could 
ever claim ; but used me in a manner unfeeling, 
harsh beyond description, at one of the darkest 
periods of my chequered life. I looked steadfastly 
in his sour face ; his eye met mine. I was a 
female, and therefore he stared ; but, when he 
knew who it was, he averted his eyes suddenly, 
Instantaneously these lines darted into my mind : 

" Would you the purple should your limbs adorn, 
Go wash the conscious blemish with a tear." 

The man, who enjoys more pleasure in the mer- 
cenary embrace of a courtezan, than in relieving 
the unfortunate, is a detestable character, what- 
ever his bright talents may be. 

I pity him ! Sylvander, all his fortune could 

* Lord Dreghorn was the son of Colin Maclaurin, the cele- 
brated mathematician, and after a successful practice at the 
bar, was raised to the Bench. He published several works, and 
died in 1796. Many of the Judges, at that period, went in their 
robes to the High Church, in Parliament Square. 



200 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

not purchase half the luxury of Friday night ! 
Let us be grateful to Heaven, though it has de- 
nied us wealth and power, for being endued with 
feelings, fitted to yield the most exquisite enjoy- 
ments here and hereafter ! May I hope you'll 
read what I have urged on religion with atten- 
tion, Sylvander ! when Reason resumes her reign? 
Fve none of these future delusive hopes, which 
you too vainly express as having towards Clarin- 
da. Do not indulge them ; my wishes extend to 
your immortal welfare. Let your first care be to 
please God : for that, which He delights in, must 
be happiness. I must conclude, or Til relapse. I 
have not a grain of humour to-night in my com- 
position; so, lest " charming Clarinda" should 
make you yawn, she'll decently say "good night !" 
I laugh to myself at the recollection of your ear- 
nest asseverations as to your being anti-Platonic ! 
Want of passions is not merit: strong ones, un- 
der the control of reason and religion — let these 
be our glory. 

Once more good night. 

Clarinda. 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 201 

LETTEE XXXVI. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Saturday Morning, \_Fe~bruary 2d, ,] 
There is no time, my Clarinda, when the con- 
scious thrilling chords of Love and Friendship 
give such delight, as in the pensive hours of what 
our favourite Thomson calls " philosophic melan- 
choly." The sportive insects, who bask in the 
sunshine of Prosperity, or the worms, that lux- 
uriant crawl amid their ample wealth of earth ; 
they need no Clarinda — they would despise Syl- 
vander, if they dared. The family of Misfortune, 
a numerous group of brothers and sisters ! — they 
need a resting-place to their souls. Unnoticed, 
often condemned by the world — in some degree, 
perhaps, condemned by themselves — they feel the 
full enjoyment of ardent love, delicate tender en- 
dearments, mutual esteem, and mutual reliance. 

In this light. I have often admired religion. In 
proportion as w T e are wrung with grief, or distracted 
with anxiety, the ideas of a compassionate Deity, 
an Almighty Protector, are doubly dear. 



202 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

" 'Tis this, my friend, that streaks our morning bright ; 
'Tis this that gilds the horrors of our night." 

I have been this morning taking a peep through, 
as Young finely says, " the dark postern of time 
long elapsed ;" and you will easily guess 'twas a 
rueful prospect : what a tissue of thoughtlessness, 
weakness, and folly ! My life reminded me of a 
ruined temple : what strength, what proportion 
in some parts ! — what unsightly gaps, what pros- 
trate ruins in others ! I kneeled down before the 
Father of Mercies, and said, " Father, I have 
sinned against Heaven, and in thy sight, and am 
no more worthy to be called thy son !" I rose 
eased and strengthened. I despise the supersti- 
tion of a fanatic ; but I love the religion of a man. 
" The future," said I to myself, "is still before 
me : there let me 

c On reason build resolve — 
That column of true majesty in man !' 

I have difficulties many to encounter," said I ; 
"but they are not absolutely insuperable : — and 
where is firmness of mind shown, but in exertion ? 
Mere declamation is bombast rant. Besides, 
wherever I am, or in whatever situation I may be, 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 



' 'Tis nought to me, 



Since God is ever present, ever felt, 
In the void waste as in the city full ; 
And where he vital breathes, there must be joy.' " 

Saturday Night. Half after Ten. 
What luxury of bliss I was enjoying this time 
yesternight ! My ever dearest Clarinda, you 
have stolen away my soul : hut you have refined, 
you have exalted it ; you have given it a stronger 
sense of virtue, and a stronger relish for piety. 
Clarinda, first of your sex ! if ever I am the 
veriest wretch on earth to forget you ; if ever 
your lovely image is effaced from my soul, 

" May I be lost, no eye to weep my end, 

And find no earth that 's base enough to bury me !" 

What trifling silliness is the childish fondness 
of the every-day children of the world ! 'Tis the 
unmeaning toying of the younglings of the fields 
and forests ; but, where Sentiment and Fancy 
unite their sweets, where Taste and Delicacy 
refine, where Wit adds the flavour, and Good 
Sense gives strength and spirit to all ; what a 
delicious draught is the hour of tender endear- 



204 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

ment ! Beauty and Grace in the arms of Truth 
and Honour, in all the luxury of mutual love. 

Olarinda, have you ever seen the picture real- 
ized ? not in all its very richest colouring, but 

" Hope, thou nurse of young Desire, 
Fair promiser of Joy." 

Last night, Clarinda, but for one slight shade, 

was the glorious picture — 

" Innocence 

Look'd gaily smiling on ; while rosy Pleasure 
Hid young Desire amid her flowery wreath, 
And pour'd her cup luxuriant, mantling high, 
The sparkling, Heavenly vintage — Love and Bliss !" 

Clarinda, when a poet and poetess of Nature's 
making — two of Nature's noblest productions ! 
— when they drink together of the same cup of 
Love and Bliss, attempt not, ye coarser stuff of 
human nature ! profanely to measure enjoyment 
ye never can know. 

Good night, my dear Clarinda ! 

Sylvander. 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 205 

LETTER XXXVII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[4th February 1788.] 
* * * I am a discontented ghost, 
a perturbed spirit. Clarinda, if ever you forget 
Sylvander, may you be happy, but he will be mi- 
serable. 

O, what a fool I am in love ! — what an extra- 
vagant prodigal of affection ! Why are your sex 
called the tender sex, when I never have met 
with one who can repay me in passion ? They 
are either not so rich in love as I am, or they 
are niggards where I am lavish. 

O Thou, whose I am, and whose are all my 
ways ! Thou see'st me here, the hapless wreck 
of tides and tempests in my own bosom : do 
Thou direct to thyself that ardent love, for which 
I have so often sought a return, in vain, from my 
fellow-creatures ! If Thy goodness has yet such 
a gift in store for me, as an equal return of affec- 
tion from her who, Thou knowest, is dearer to me 
than life, do Thou bless and hallow our band of 

K 



206 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

love and friendship ; watch over us, in all our 
outgoings and incomings, for good ; and may the 
tie that unites our hearts be strong and indisso-^ 
luble as the thread of man's immortal life ! 

I am just going to take your Blackbird, the 
sweetest, I am sure, that ever sung, and prune 
its wings a little. 

Sylvander, 



LETTER XXXVIII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

\_Febmary 5th. ~J 
I cannot go out to-day, my dearest love, with- 
out sending you half a line by way of a sin offer- 
ing ; but, believe me, 'twas the sin of ignorance. 
Could you think that I intended to hurt you by 
anything I said yesternight ? Nature has been 
too kind to you for your happiness, your delicacy, 
your sensibility. O why should such glorious 
qualifications be the fruitful source of wo ! You 
have " murdered sleep " to me last night. I went 
to bed impressed with an idea that you were un- 



SYLVAXDER TO CLARINDA. 207 

happy ; and every start I closed my eyes, busy 
Fancy painted you in such scenes of romantic 
misery, that I would almost be persuaded you are 
not well this morning. 

" If I unwitting have offended. 

Impute it not," 

" But while we live 

But one short hour, perhaps, between us two 
Let there be peace." 

If Mary is not gone by the time this reaches 
you, give her my best compliments. She is a 
charming girl, and highly worthy of the noblest 
love. 

I send you a poem to read till I call on you 
this night, which will be about nine. I wish I 
could procure some potent spell, some fairy charm, 
that would protect from injury, or restore to rest 
that bosom chord, " tremblingly alive all o'er," 
on which hangs your peace of mind. I thought, 
vainly I fear thought, that the devotion of love, 
love strong as even you can feel, love guarded, 
invulnerably guarded by all the purity of virtue, 
and all the pride of honour, — I thought such a 
love might make you happy. Shall I be mis- 
taken I I can no more, for hurry. 
Tuesday Morning. 



208 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

LETTER XXXIX. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Thursday ', Twelve, {February *Jth.~] 
I have been giving Mary a convoy ; the day is 
a genial one. Mary is a happy woman to-day. 
Mrs Cockburn * has seen her " Henry," and ad- 
mired it vastly. She talked of you, told her she 
saw you, and that her lines even met your ap- 
plause. Sylvan der, I share in the joy of every 
one ; and am ready to " weep with those who 
weep," as well as " rejoice with those who rejoice.''' 
I wish all the human race well, — my heart throbs 
with the large ambitious wish to see them blest ; 
yet I seem sometimes as if born to inflict misery » 
What a cordial evening we had last night ! I 
only tremble at the ardent manner Mary talks of 
Sylvander ! She knows where his affections lie. 
and is quite unconscious of the eagerness of her 
expressions. All night I could get no sleep for 
her admiration. I like her for it, and am proud 

* Authoress of the beautiful song to the tune of " The 
Flowers of the Forest," beginning, " I've seen the smiling of 
Fortune beguiling." 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 209 

of it ; but I know how much violent admiration 
is akin to love. 

I go out to dinner 5 and mean to leave this, in 
case of one from you to-day. Miss Chalmers's 
letters are charming. Why did not such a woman 
secure your heart ? — the caprice of human na- 
ture, to fix on impossibilities. 

I am, however, happy you have such valuable 
friends. What a pity that those who will be most 
apt to feel your merit, will be probably among the 
number who have not the power of serving you ! 
Sylvander, I never was ambitious ; but of late I 
have wished for wealth, with an ardour unfelt be- 
fore, to be able to say, " Be independent, thou 
dear friend of my heart ! n What exquisite joy ! 
Then " your head would be lifted up above your 
enemies." Oh, then, what little shuffling, sneak- 
ing attentions ! — shame upon the world ! Wealth 
and power command its adulation, while real 
genius and worth, without these, are neglected and 

contemned. 

" In nature's simplest habit clad, 

No wealth nor power had he ; 
Genius and worth were all he had, 

But these were all to me." 



210 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA, 

Forgive my quoting my most favourite lines. 
You spoke of being here to-morrow evening. I 
believe you would be the first to tire of our 
society ; but I tremble for censorious remarks : 
however, we must be sober in our hours. I am 
flat to-day — so adieu ! I was not so cheerful last 
night as I wished. Forgive me. I am yours, 

Clarinda. 



LETTER XL. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Friday Morning > 7 d Clock, [February 8th.'] 
Your fears for Mary are truly laughable. I 
suppose, my love, you and I showed her a scene 
which, perhaps, made her wish that she had a 
swain, and one who could love like me ; and 'tis 
a thousand pities that so good a heart as hers 
should want an aim, an object. I am miserably 
stupid this morning. Yesterday I dined with a 
Baronet, and sat pretty late over the bottle. And 
" who hath wo — who hath sorrow? they that 
tarry long at the wine; they that go to seek 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 211 

mixed wine." Forgive me, likewise, a quotation 
from my favourite author. Solomon's knowledge 
of the world is very great. He may be looked on 
as the " Spectator" or " Adventurer" of his day : 
and it is, indeed, surprising what a sameness has 
ever been in human nature. The broken, but 
strongly characterizing hints, that the royal author 
gives us of the manners of the court of Jerusalem 
and country of Israel are, in their great outlines, 
the same pictures that London and England, 
Versailles and France exhibit some three thou- 
sand years later. The loves in the " Song of 
songs " are all in the spirit of Lady M. W. Mon- 
tague, or Madame Ninon de FEnclos ; though, 
for my part, I dislike both the ancient and mo- 
dern voluptuaries ; and will dare to affirm, that 
such an attachment as mine to Clarinda, and such 
evenings as she and I have spent, are what these 
greatly respectable and deeply experienced Judges 
of Life and Love never dreamed of. 

I shall be with you this evening between eight 
and nine, and shall keep as sober hours as you 
could wish. I am ever, my dear Madam, yours, 

Sylvander. 



212 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 



LETTER XLI. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

\February 13t/*.] 
My ever dearest Clarinda, — I make a nu- 
merous dinner-party wait me while I read yours* 
and write this. Do not require that I should 
eease to love you, to adore you in my soul ; His 
to me impossible : your peace and happiness are 
to me dearer than my soul. Name the terms on 
which you wish to see me, to correspond with me, 
and you have them. I must love, pine, mourn, 
and adore in secret : this you must not deny me. 
You will ever be to me 

" Dear as the light that visits those sad eyes, 
Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart." 

I have not patience to read the Puritanic scrawl. 
Damned sophistry. Ye heavens, thou God of 
nature, thou Redeemer of mankind ! ye look 
down with approving eyes on a passion inspired 



* The letters of Clarinda referred to in this and the three 
following letters, were not found by the Editor among the 
papers of Mrs M'Lehose, when delivered to him. 



SYLVAXDER TO CLARINDA. 213 

by the purest flame, and guarded by truth, deli- 
cacy, and honour ; but the half-inch soul of an 
unfeeling, cold-blooded, pitiful Presbyterian bigot 
cannot forgive anything above his dungeon-bosom 
and foggy head. 

Farewell ! Ill be with you to-morrow evening ; 
and be at rest in your mind. I will be yours in 
the way you think most to your happiness. I 
dare not proceed. I love, and will love you ; and 
will, with joyous confidence, approach the throne 
of the Almighty Judge of men with your dear 
idea ; and will despise the scum of sentiment, and 
the mist of sophistry. 

Sylvander. 



LETTER XLIL 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Wednesday, Midnight, [February 13th.~\ 
Madam — After a wretched day, I am prepar- 
ing for a sleepless night. I am going to address 
myself to the Almighty Witness of my actions — 
some time, perhaps very soon, my Almighty 

k2 



21 4 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

Judge. I am not going to be the advocate of 
Passion : be Thou my inspirer and testimony, O 
God, as I plead the cause of truth ! 

I have read over your friend's haughty dicta- 
torial letter : you are only answerable to your 
God in such a matter. Who gave any fellow- 
creature of yours, (a fellow-creature incapable of 
being your judge, because not your peer,) a right 
to catechise, scold, undervalue, abuse, and insult, 
wantonly and unhumanly to insult you thus ? I 
don't wish, not even wish to deceive you, Madam. 
The Searcher of hearts is my witness how dear 
you are to me ; but though it were possible you 
could be still dearer to me, I would not even kiss 
your hand, at the expense of your conscience. 
Away with declamation I let us appeal to the bar 
of common sense. It is not mouthing everything 
sacred ; it is not vague ranting assertions ; it is 
not assuming, haughtily and insultingly assuming, 
the dictatorial language of a Roman Pontiff, that 
must dissolve a union like ours. Tell me, Madam, 
are you under the least shadow of an obligation 
to bestow your love, tenderness, caresses, affec- 
tions, heart and soul, on Mr M'Lehose — the man 



SYLVANDERTO CLARINDA. 215 

who has repeatedly, habitually, and barbarously 
broken through every tie of duty, nature, or grati- 
tude to you ? The laws of your country indeed, 
for the most useful reasons of policy and sound 
government, have made your person inviolate ; 
but are your heart and affections bound to one 
who gives not the least return of either to you I 
You cannot do it ; it is not in the nature of 
things that you are bound to do it ; the common 
feelings of humanity forbid it. Have you, then, 
a heart and affections which are no man's right I 
You have. It would be highly, ridiculously ab- 
surd to suppose the contrary. Tell me then, in 
the name of common sense, can it be wrong, is 
such a supposition compatible with the plainest 
ideas of right and wrong, that it is improper to 
bestow the heart and these affections on another 
— while that bestowing is not in the smallest de- 
gree hurtful to your duty to God, to your chil- 
dren, to yourself, or to society at large ? 

This is the great test ; the consequences : let 
us see them. In a widowed, forlorn, lonely situa- 
tion, with a bosom glowing with love and tender- 
ness, yet so delicately situated that you cannot 



216 SYLVAN DER TO CLARINDA. 

indulge these nobler feelings except you meet with 
a man who has a soul capable * 



LETTER XLIIL 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

{February 14th.] 
" I am distressed for thee, my brother Jona- 
than." I have suffered, Clarinda, from your let- 
ter. My soul was in arms at the sad perusal. I 
dreaded that I had acted wrong. If I have wrong- 
ed you, God forgive me. But, Clarinda, be com- 
forted. Let us raise the tone of our feelings a 
little higher and bolder. A fellow-creature who 
leaves us — who spurns us without just cause, 
though once our bosom friend — up with a little 
honest pride : let them go. How shall I comfort 
you, who am the cause of the injury? Can I 
wish that I had never seen you — that we had 



SYLVANDER TO CLARIXDA. 217 

never met I No, I never will. But, have I 
thrown you friendless I — there is almost distrac- 
tion in the thought. Father of mercies ! against 
Thee often have I sinned : through Thy grace I 
will endeavour to do so no more. She who Thou 
knowest is dearer to me than myself, — pour Thou 
the balm of peace into her past wounds, and hedge 
her about with Thy peculiar care, all her future 
days and nights. Strengthen her tender, noble 
mind firmly to suffer and magnanimously to bear. 
Make me worthy of that friendship, that love she 
honours me with. May my attachment to her be 
pure as devotion, and lasting as immortal life. O, 
Almighty Goodness, hear me ! Be to her, at all 
times, particularly in the hour of distress or trial. 
a friend and comforter, a guide and guard. 

" How are thy servants blest, Lord, 
How sure is their defence ! 
Eternal wisdom is their guide, 
Their help Omnipotence." 

Forgive me, Clarinda, the injury I have done 
you. To-night I shall be with you, as indeed I 
shall be ill at ease till I see you. 

Sylvander. 



218 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

LETTER XLIV. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Two o'clock, {February 14^.] 
I just now received your first letter of yester- 
day, by the careless negligence of the penny post. 
Clarinda, matters are grown very serious with us : 
then seriously hear me, and hear me Heaven ! 

I met you, my dear Clarinda, by far the first 
of womankind, at least to me. I esteemed, I loved 
you at first sight, both of which attachments you 
have done me the honour to return. The longer 
I am acquainted with you, the more innate 
amiableness and worth I discover in you. You 
have suffered a loss, I confess, for my sake ; but 
if the firmest, steadiest, warmest friendship ; if 
every endeavour to be worthy of your friendship ; 
if a love, strong as the ties of nature, and holy as 
the duties of religion ; if all these can make any- 
thing like a compensation for the evil I have 
occasioned you ; if they be worth your acceptance, 
or can in the least add to your enjoyments, — so 
help Sylvander, ye Powers above, in his hour of 
need, as he freely gives these all to Clarinda ! 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 219 

I esteem you, I love you, as a friend ; I admire 
you, I love you, as a woman, beyond any one in 
all the circle of creation. I know I shall continue 
to esteem you, to love you, to pray for you, nay, 
to pray for myself for your sake. 

Expect me at eight ; and believe me to be ever, 
my dearest Madam, yours most entirely, 

Sylvander. 



LETTER XLV, 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

\_February 15th.'] 

When matters, my love, are desperate, we must 

put on a desperate face — 

" On reason build resolve, 
That column of true majesty in man" — 

or, as the same author finely says in another place, 

" Let thy soul spring up, 
And lay strong hold for help on him that made thee." 

I am yours, Clarinda, for life. Never be dis- 
couraged at all this. Look forward : in a few 
weeks I shall be somewhere or other, out of the 



220 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

possibility of seeing you : till then, I shall write 
you often, but visit you seldom. Your fame, 
your welfare, your happiness, are dearer to me 
than any gratification whatever. Be comforted, 
my love ! the present moment is the worst ; the 
lenient hand of time is daily and hourly either 
lightening the burden, or making us insensible to 
the weight. None of these friends — I mean Mr 

and the other gentleman — can hurt 

your worldly support : and of their friendship, in 
a little time you will learn to be easy, and by and 
by to be happy without it. A decent means of 
livelihood in the world, an approving God, a peace- 
ful conscience, and one firm trusty friend — can 
anybody that has these be said to be unhappy ? 
These are yours. 

To-morrow evening I shall be with you about 
eight, probably for the last time till I return to 
Edinburgh. In the meantime, should any of 
these two unlucky friends question you respecting 
me, whether I am the man, I do not think they 
are entitled to any information. As to their 
jealousy and spying, I despise them. 

Adieu, my dearest Madam ! 

Sylvander. 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 221 

LETTER XLVI. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Glasgow, Monday Evening, Nine o'clock, 
[February 18^.] 
The attraction of Love, I find, is in an inverse 
proportion to the attraction of the Newtonian 
philosophy. In the system of Sir Isaac, the 
nearer objects were to one another, the stronger 
was the attractive force. In my system, every 
milestone that marked my progress from Olarinda. 
awakened a keener pang of attachment to her. 
How do you feel, my love? Is your heart ill at 
ease I I fear it. God forbid that these persecu- 
tors should harass that peace, which is more pre- 
cious to me than my own. Be assured I shall 
ever think on you, muse on you, and, in my mo- 
ments of devotion, pray for you. The hour that 
you are not in my thoughts, " be that hour dark- 
ness ; let the shadows of death cover it ; let it 
not be numbered in the hours of the day ! w 

" When I forget the darling theme, 

Be my tongue mute ! my fancy paint no more ! 

And, dead to joy, forget my heart to beat !" 



222 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

I have just met with my old friend, the ship Cap- 
tain* — guess my pleasure; to meet you could 
alone have given me more. My brother Wil- 
liam, too, the young saddler, has come to Glas- 
gow to meet me ; and here are we three spending 
the evening. 

I arrived here too late to write by post ; but 
I'll wrap half-a-dozen sheets of blank paper toge- 
ther, and send it by the Fly, under the name of 
a parcel. You shall hear from me next post 
town. I would write you a longer letter, but for 
the present circumstances of my friend. 

Adieu, my Clarinda ! I am just going to pro- 
pose your health by way of grace-drink. 

Sylvander. 

* Mr Richard Brown, alluded to in the Poet's autobiography 
a as a very noble character, but a hapless son of Misfortune," 
whose acquaintance he had formed at Irvine. 






CLAR1NDA TO SYLVANDER. 228 

LETTER XLVII. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Edinburgh, Tuesday Evening, Nine o'clock, 
[19th February. ~] 

Mr has just left me, after half an hour's 

most pathetic conversation. I told him of the 
usage I had met with on Sunday night, which he 
condemned much, as unmanly and ungenerous. 
I expressed my thanks for his call ; but he told 
me, it " was merely to hide the change in his 
friendship from the world." Think how I was 
mortified : I was, indeed ; and affected so, as 
hardly to restrain tears. He did not name you ; 
but spoke in terms that showed plainly he knew. 
Would to God he knew my Sylvander as I do ! 
then might I hope to retain his friendship still ; 
but I have made my choice, and you alone can 
ever make me repent it. Yet, while I live ? I must 
regret the loss of such a man's friendship. My 
dear, generous friend of my soul does so too. I 
love him for it ! Yesterday I thought of you, 
and went over to Miss Niinmo, to have the luxury 
of talking of you. She was most kind ; and 



224 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

praised you more than ever, as a man of worth, 
honour, genius. Oh, how I could have listened 
to her for ever ! She says, she is afraid our at- 
tachment will be lasting. I stayed tea, was asked 
kindly, and did not choose to refuse, as I stayed 
last time when you were of the party. I wish 
you were here to-night to comfort me. I feel 
hurt and depressed ; but to-morrow I hope for a 
cordial from your dear hand ! I must bid you 
good night. Remember your Clarinda. Every 
blessing be yours ! 

Your letter this moment. Why did you write 
before to-day ? Thank you for it. I figure your 
heartfelt enjoyment last night. Oh, to have been 
of the party ! Where was it ? I'd like to know 
the very spot. My head aches so I can't write 
more ; but I have kissed your dear lines over and 
over. Adieu ! Ill finish this to-morrow. 

Your Clarinda. 
Wednesday, Eleven, 

Mary was at my bedside by eight this morn- 
ing. We had much chat about you. She is an 
affectionate, faithful soul. She tells me her de- 
fence of you was so warm, in a large company 
where you were blamed for some trivial affair, 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER, 225 

that she left them impressed with the idea of her 
being in love. She laughs, and says, " His pity 
to have the skaith, and nothing for her pains. " 

My spirits are greatly better to-day. I am a 
little anxious about Willie : his leg is to be lanced 
this day, and I shall be fluttered till the operation 
is fairly over. Mr Wood thinks he will soon get 
well, when the matter lodged in it is discussed. 
God grant it ! Oh, how can I ever be ungrateful 
to that good Providence, who has blest me with 
so many undeserved mercies, and saved me often 
from the ruin I courted ! The heart that feels 
its continual dependence on the Almighty, is 
bound to keep His laws by a tie stronger and 
tenderer than any human obligation. The feel- 
ing of Honour is a noble and powerful one ; but 
can we be honourable to a fellow T -creature, and 
basely unmindful of our Bountiful Benefactor, 
to whom we are indebted for life and all its bless- 
ings ; and even for those very distinguishing qua- 
lities, Honour, Genius, and Benevolence ? 

I am sure you enter into these ideas ; did you 
think with me in all points I should be too happy ; 
but I'll be silent. I may wish and pray, but you 
shall never again accuse me of presumption. My 



226 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

dear, I write you this to Mauchline, to be waiting 
you. I hope, nay I am sure, 'twill be welcome. 

You are an extravagant prodigal in more essen- 
tial things than affection. To-day's post would 
have brought me yours and saved you sixpence. 
However, it pleased me to know that, though absent 
in body, " you w 7 ere present with me in spirit. " 

Do you know a Miss Nelly Hamilton in Ayr, 
daughter to a Captain John H. of the Excise 
cutter ? I staid with her at Kailzie, and love 
her. She is a dear, amiable, romantic girl. I wish 
much to write to her, and will enclose it for you to 
deliver, personally, if agreeable. She raved about 
your poems in summer, and wished to be ac- 
quainted. Let me know if you have any objec- 
tions. She is an intimate of Miss Nimmo, too. 
I think the streets look deserted-like since Mon- 
day ; and there's a certain insipidity in good kind 
of folks I once enjoyed not a little. You, who are 
a casuist, explain these deep enigmas. Miss 
Wardrobe supped here on Monday. She once 
named you, which kept me from falling asleep. 
I drank your health in a glass of ale — as the lasses 
do at Hallowe'en, — " in to mysel." 

Happy Sylvander ! to meet with the dear cha- 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 227 

rities of brother, sister, parent ! whilst I have 
none of these, and belong to nobody. Yes, I have 
my children, and my heart's friend, Sylvander — 
the only one I have ever found capable of that 
nameless, delicate attachment, which none but 
noble, romantic minds can comprehend. I envy 
you the Captain's society. Don't tell him of the 
" Iron Chain," lest he call us both fools. I saw 
the happy trio in my mind's eye. So absence in- 
creases your fondness : 'tis ever so in great souls. 
Let the poor wordlings enjoy (possess, I mean, 
for they can't enjoy) their golden dish ; we have 
each of us an estate, derived from the Father of 
the Universe, into whose hands I trust we'll return 
it, cultivated, so as to prove an inexhaustible trea- 
sure through the endless ages of eternity ! 

Afternoon, 
Mr Wood has not come, so the affair is not 
over. I hesitate about sending this till I hear 
further ; but I think you said you'd be at M. on 
Thursday : at any rate you'll get this on your ar- 
rival. 

Farewell ! may you ever abide under the sha- 
dow of the Almighty. Yours, 

Clarinda . 



228 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 



LETTER XLVIIL 



SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 



Kilmarnock, Friday r , [22d February."] 
I wrote you, my dear Madam, the moment I 
alighted in Glasgow. Since then I have not had 
opportunity : for in Paisley, where I arrived next 
day, my worthy, wise friend Mr Pattison did 
not allow me a moment's respite. I was there 
ten hours ; during which time I was introduced 
to nine men worth six thousands ; five men worth 
ten thousands ; his brother, richly worth twenty 
thousands ; and a young weaver, who will have 
thirty thousands good w T hen his father, who has 
no more children than the said weaver, and a 
Whig- kirk, dies. Mr P. was bred a zealous 
Antiburgher ; but, during his widowerhood, he 
has found their strictness incompatible with cer- 
tain compromises he is often obliged to make with 
those Powers of darkness — the devil, the world, 
and the flesh : so he, good, merciful man ! talked 
privately to me of the absurdity of eternal tor- 
ments ; the liberality of sentiment in indulging 



SYLVANDER TO CLAR1NDA. 229 

the honest instincts of nature ; the mysteries of 
* * &c. He has a son, however, that, at 
sixteen, has repeatedly minted * at certain privi- 
leges, only proper for sober, staid men, who can 
use the good things of this life without abusing 
them ; but the father's parental vigilance has 
hitherto hedged him in, amid a corrupt and evil 
world. 

His only daughter, who, " if the beast be to 
the fore, and the branks bide hale," will have 
seven thousand pounds when her old father steps 
into the dark Factory-office of Eternity with his 
well-thummed web of life, has put him again and 
again in a commendable fit of indignation, by 
requesting a harpsichord. " O ! these boarding- 
schools !" exclaims my prudent friend. " She was 
a good spinner and sewer, till I was advised by 
her foes and mine to give her a year of Edin- 
burgh r 

After tw T o bottles more, my much-respected 

friend opened up to me a project, a legitimate 

child of Wisdom and Good Sense ; 'twas no less 

than a long thought-on and deeply-matured de- 

* Anglice — Aimed at, attempted. 



230 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

sign, to marry a girl, fully as elegant in her 
form as the famous priestess whom Saul con- 
sulted in his last hours, and who had been second 
maid of honour to his deceased wife. This, you 
may be sure, I highly applauded, so I hope for 
a pair of gloves by and by. I spent the two 
bypast days at Dunlop House with that worthy 
family to whom I was deeply indebted early in 
my poetic career ; and in about two hours I shall 
present your " twa wee sarkies " to the little fel- 
low.* My dearest Clarinda, you are ever present 
with me ; and these hours, that drawl by among 
the fools and rascals of this world, are only sup- 
portable in the idea, that they are the forerunners 
of that happy hour, that ushers me to " the mis- 
tress of my soul." Next week I shall visit Dum- 
fries, and next again return to Edinburgh. My 
letters, in these hurrying dissipated hours, will 
be heavy trash ; but you know the writer. 

God bless you. 

Sylvander. 

* See page 115. 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 231 

LETTER XLIX. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Edinburgh, Friday Evening, [22d Feb.'] 
I wish you had given me a hint, my dear Syl- 
vander, that you were to write me only once in a 
week. Yesterday I looked for a letter ; to-day. 
never doubted it ; but both days have terminated 
in disappointment. A thousand conjectures have 
conspired to make me most unhappy. Often have 
I suffered much disquiet from forming the idea of 
such an attention, on such and such an occasion, 
and experienced quite the reverse. But in you, 
and you alone, I have ever found my highest de- 
mands of kindness accomplished ; nay, even my 
fondest wishes, not gratified only, but anticipated ! 
To what, then, can I attribute your not writing 
me one line since Monday ? 

God forbid that your nervous ailment has inca- 
pacitated you for that office, from which you de- 
rived pleasure singly ; as well as that most delicate 
of all enjoyments, pleasure reflected. To-morrow 
I shall hope to hear from you. Hope, blessed 



232 CLARINDA TO SYLVAKDER. 

hope, thou halm of every wo, possess and fill 
my bosom with thy benign influence. 

I have been solitary since the tender farewell 
till to-night. I was solicited to go to Dr Moyes's 
lecture with Miss Craig and a gallant of hers, a 
student ; one of the many stupid animals, know- 
ing only in the Science of Puppyism, " or the nice 
conduct of a clouded cane." With what sove- 
reign contempt did I compare his trite, insipid 
frivolity with the intelligent, manly observation 
which ever marks the conversation of Sylvander. 
He is a glorious piece of divine workmanship, Dr 
Moyes. The subject to-night was the origin of 
minerals, springs, lakes, and the ocean. Many 
parts were far beyond my weak comprehension, 
and indeed that of most women. What I under- 
stood delighted me, and altogether raised my 
thoughts to the infinite wisdom and boundless 
goodness of the Deity. The man himself marks 
both. Presented with a universal blank of Na- 
ture's works, * his mind appears to be illuminated 
with Celestial light. He concluded with some 
lines of the Essay on Man : " All are but 

* Dr Moyes was blind. 



CLAR1XDA TO SYLVAXDER. Zoo 

parts of one stupendous whole,' 1 &c. ; a passage 
I have often read with sublime pleasure. 

Miss Burnet* sat just behind me. What an 
angelic girl ! I stared at her, having never seen 
her so near. I remembered you talking of her, &c. 
What felicity to witness her " Softly speak and 
sweetly smile ! " How could you celebrate any 
other Clarinda ! Oh, I would have adored you, 
as Pope of exquisite taste and refinement, had you 
loved, sighed, and written upon her for ever ! breath- 
ing your passion only to the woods and streams. 
But Poets, I find, are not quite incorporeal, 
more than others. My dear Sylvander, to be 
serious, I really wonder you ever admired Cla- 
rinda, after beholding Miss Burnet's superior 
charms. If I don't hear to-morrow, I shall form 
dreadful reasons. God forbid! Bishop Geddes 
was within a foot of me, too. What field for con- 
templation — both ! 

Good night. God bless you, prays 

Clarixda. 

*This young lady died of consumption in 1790, at the age of 
twenty-five. She was second daughter of the eccentric Lord 
Monboddo, and refused several advantageous offers of mar- 
riage, to nurse his declining years. She was a rare combina- 
tion of beauty, grace, and goodness. 



234 SYLVANDER TO GLARINDA. 

LETTER L. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Cumnock. 2d March, 1788. 

I hope, and am certain, that my generous Cla- 
rinda will not think my silence, for now a long 
week, has been in any degree owing to my forget- 
fulness. I have been tossed about through the 
country ever since I wrote you ; and am here 
returning from Dumfries-shire, at an inn, the 
post-office of the place, with just so long time as 
my horse eats his corn, to write you. I have 
been hurried with business and dissipation, almost 
equal to the insidious degree of the Persian mon- 
arch's mandate, when he forbade asking petition 
of God or man for forty days. Had the venerable 
prophet been as strong as I, he had not broken the 
decree ; at least not thrice a-day. 

I am thinking my farming scheme will yet 
hold. A worthy intelligent farmer, my father's 
friend and my own, has been with me on the 
spot : he thinks the bargain practicable. I am 
myself, on a more serious review of the lands, 



SYLVANDER TO CLARIXDA. 235 

much better pleased with them. I won't mention 
this in writing to anybody but you and Mr 
Ainslie. Don't accuse me of being fickle ; I have 
the two plans of life before me, and I wish to adopt 
the one most likely to procure me independence. 
I shall be in Edinburgh next week. I long 
to see you ; your image is omnipresent to me ; 
nav, I am convinced I would soon idolatrize it 
most seriously; so much do absence and memory 
improve the medium through which one sees the 
much-loved object. To-night, at the sacred hour 
of eight, I expect to meet you, at the Throne of 
Grace. I hope, as I go home to-night, to find a 
letter from you at the post-office in Mauchline; 
I have just once seen that dear hand since I left 
Edinburgh ; a letter, indeed, which much affect- 
ed me. Tell me, first of womankind, will my 
warmest attachment, my sincerest friendship, my 
correspondence, — will they be any compensation 
for the sacrifices you make for my sake I If thev 
will, they are yours. If I settle on the farm I 
propose, I am just a day and a half's ride from 
Edinburgh. We shall meet : don't you say, " Per- 
haps, too often ! " 



236 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

Farewell, my fair, my charming Poetess ! May 
all good things ever attend you. 

I am ever, my dearest Madam, 
Yours, 

Sylvander. 



LETTER LI. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

Edinburgh, March 5, 1788. 
I received yours from Cumnock about an hour 
ago ; and to show you my good-nature, sit down 
to write to you immediately. I fear, Sylvander, 
you overvalue my generosity ; for, believe me, it 
will be some time ere I can cordially forgive you 
the pain your silence has caused me ! Did you 
ever feel that sickness of heart which arises from 
"hope deferred"? That, the cruelest of pains, 
you have inflicted on me for eight days by-past. 
I hope I can make every reasonable allowance for 
the hurry of business and dissipation. Yet, had 
I been ever so engrossed, I should have found one 
hour out of the twenty-four to write you. No 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 237 

more of it : I accept of your apologies ; but am 
hurt that any should have been necessary betwixt 
us on such a tender occasion. 

I am happy that the farming scheme promises 
so well. There's no fickleness, my dear Sir, in 
changing for the better. I never liked the 
Excise for you ; and feel a sensible pleasure in 
the hope of your becoming a sober, industrious 
farmer. My prayers, in this affair, are heard, I 
hope, so far : may they be answered completely ! 
The distance is the only thing I regret ; but, 
whatever tends to your welfare, overweighs all 
other considerations. I hope ere then to grow 
wiser, and to lie easy under weeks'* silence. 1 had 
begun to think that you had fully experienced the 
truth of Sir Isaac's philosophy. 

I have been under unspeakable obligations to 
your friend, Mr Ainslie. I had not a mortal to 
whom I could speak of your name but him. He 
has called often ; and, by sympathy, not a little 
alleviated my anxiety. I tremble lest you should 
have devolved, what you used to term your " folly, " 
upon Clarinda : more 's the pity. Tis never grace- 
ful but on the male side ; but I shall learn more 

l 2 



238 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

wisdom in future. Example has often good 
effects. 

I got both your letters from Kilmarnock and 
Mauchline, and would, perhaps, have written to 
you unbidden, had I known anything of the geo- 
graphy of the country ; but I knew not whether 
you would return by Mauchline or not, nor could 
Mr Ainslie inform me. I have met with several 
little rubs, that hurt me the more that I had not 
a bosom to pour them into — 

" On some fond breast the feeling soul relies." 

Mary I have not once set eyes on, since I wrote 
to you. Oh, that I should be formed susceptible 
of kindness, never, never to be fully, or, at least, 
habitually returned ! " Trim," (said my Uncle 
Toby,) " I wish, Trim, I were dead." 

Mr Ainslie called just now r to tell me he had 
heard from you. You would see, by my last, 
how anxious I was, even then, to hear from you. 
'Tis the first time I ever had reason to be so : I 
hope 'twill be the last. My thoughts were yours 
both Sunday nights at eight. Why should my 
letter have affected you ? You know I count all 
things (Heaven excepted) but loss, that I may 



CLARIXDA TO SYLVANDER. 239 

win and keep you. I supped at Mr Kemp's on 
Friday. Had you been an invisible spectator 
with what perfect ease I acquitted myself, you 
would have been pleased, highly pleased with me. 

Interrupted by a visit from Miss R . She 

was inquiring kindly for you. I delivered your 
compliments to her. She means (as you once 
said) all the kindness in the world, but she wants 
that " finer chord." Ah ! Sylvander, happy, in 
my mind, are they who are void of it. Alas ! 
it too often thrills with anguish. 

I hope you have not forgotten to kiss the little 
cherub for me. Give him fifty, and think Cla- 
rinda blessing him all the while. I pity his mo- 
ther sincerely, and wish a certain affair happily 
over. My Willie is in good health, except his 
leg, which confines him close since it was opened ; 
and Mr Wood says it will be a very tedious 
affair. He has prescribed sea-bathing as soon as 
the season admits. I never see Miss Niinnio. 
Her indifference wounds me ; but all these things 
make me fly to the Father of Mercies, who is the 
inexhaustible Fountain of all kindness. How 
could you ever mention " postages" I I counted 



240 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

on a crown at least; and have only spent one 
poor shilling. If I had but a shilling in the 
world, you should have sixpence ; nay, eight- 
pence, if I could contrive to live on a groat. I 
am avaricious only in your letters ; you are so, 
indeed. Farewell. Yours, 

Clarinda. 



LETTER LIL 

SYLVANDER to clarinda. 

[6th March."] 
I own myself guilty, Clarinda : I should have 
written you last week. But when you recollect, 
my dearest Madam, that yours of this night's 
post, is only the third 1 have from you, and 
that this is the fifth or sixth I have sent to you, 
you will not reproach me, with a good grace, for 
unkindness. I have always some kind of idea, 
not to sit down to write a letter, except I have 
time, and possession of my faculties, so as to do 
some justice to my letter; which at present is 
rarely my situation. For instance, yesterday I 



SYLVANDER TO CLAR1NDA. 241 

dined at a friend's at some distance : the savage 
hospitality of this country spent me the most 
part of the night over the nauseous potion in the 
howl. This day — sick — headache — low spirits — 
miserable — fasting, except for a draught of water 
or small beer. Now eight o'clock at night ; only 
able to crawl ten minutes' walk into Mauchline, 
to wait the post, in the pleasurable hope of hear- 
ing from the mistress of my soul. 

But truce with all this. When I sit down to 
write to you, all is happiness and peace. A hun- 
dred times a-day do I figure you before your taper, 
— your book or work laid aside as I get within the 
room. How happy have I been ! and how little 
of that scantling portion of time, called the life of 
man, is sacred to happiness, much less transport. 

I could moralize to-night, like a death's-head. 

K what is life, that thoughtless wish of all ! 
A drop of honey in a draught of gall." 

Nothing astonishes me more, when a little sick- 
ness clogs the wheels of life, than the thoughtless 
career we run in the hour of health. " None 
saith, where is God, my Maker, that giveth songs 
in the nip;ht : who teacheth us more knowledge 



242 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

than the beasts of the field, and more understand- 
ing than the fowls of the air V 

Give me, my Maker, to remember thee ! Give 
me, to act up to the dignity of my nature ! Give 
me, to feel " another's wo " ; and continue with 
me that dear-loved friend that feels with mine ! 

The dignifying and dignified consciousness of 
an honest man, and the well-grounded trust in 
approving Heaven, are two most substantial foun- 
dations of happiness. * * * 

****** 

I could not have written a page to any mortal, 
except yourself. I'll write you by Sunday's post. 
Adieu. Good night. 

Sylvander. 



LETTER LIII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Mossgiel, 1th March, 1788. 
Clarinda, I have been so stung with your re- 
proach for unkindness, — a sin so unlike me, a sin 
I detest more than a breach of the whole Deca- 



SYLVANDER TO CLARIXDA. 243 

logue, fifth, sixth, seventh, and ninth articles ex- 
cepted, — that I believe I shall not rest in my 
grave about it, if I die before I see you. You 
have often allowed me the head to judge, and the 
heart to feel the influence of female excellence : 
was it not blasphemy, then, against your own 
charms, and against my feelings, to suppose that 
a short fortnight could abate my passion I 

You, my love, may have your cares and anxieties 
to disturb you ; but they are the usual occurrences 
of life. Your future views are fixed, and your 
mind in a settled routine. Could not you, my 
ever dearest Madam, make a little allowance for 
a man, after long absence, paying a short visit to 
a country full of friends, relations, and early inti- 
mates ? Cannot you guess, my Clarinda, what 
thoughts, what cares, what anxious forebodings, 
hopes and fears, must crowd the breast of the man 
of keen sensibility, when no less is on the tapis 
than his aim, his employment, his very existence 
through future life ? 

To be overtopped in anything else, I can bear ; 
but in the tests of generous love, I defy all man- 
kind ! not even to the tender, the fond, the loving 



244 SYLVAXDER TO CLARINDA. 

Clarinda — she whose strength of attachment, 
whose melting soul, may vie with Eloisa and 
Sappho, not even she can overpay the affection 
she owes me ! 

Now that, not my apology, but my defence is 
made, I feel my soul respire more easily. I know 
you will go along with me in my justification : 
would to Heaven you could in my adoption, too ! 
I mean an adoption beneath the stars — an adop- 
tion where I might revel in the immediate beams 

of 

" She the bright sun of all her sex." 

I would not have you, my dear Madam, so 
much hurt at Miss Nfimmoj's coldness. *Tis 
placing yourself below her, an honour she by no 
means deserves. We ought, when we wish to 
be economists in happiness, — we ought, in the 
first place, to fix the standard of our own charac- 
ter ; and when, on full examination, we know 
where we stand, and how much ground we occupy, 
let us contend for it as property ; and those who 
seem to doubt, or deny us what is justly ours, let 
us either pity their prejudices, or despise their 
judgment. I know, my dear, you will say, this 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 245 

is self-conceit ; but I call it self-knowledge : the 
one is the overweening opinion of a fool, who fancies 
himself to be, what he wishes himself to bethought ; 
the other is the honest justice that a man of sense, 
who has thoroughly examined the subject, owes 
to himself. Without this standard, this column 
in our own mind, we are perpetually at the mercy 
of the petulance, the mistakes, the prejudices, 
nay, the very weakness and wickedness of our 
fellow-creatures. 

I urge this, my dear, both to confirm myself in 
the doctrine, which, I assure you, I sometimes 
need, and because I know, that this causes you 

often much disquiet. To return to Miss N . 

She is, most certainly, a worthy soul ; and equalled 
by very very few in goodness of heart. But can 
she boast more goodness of heart than Clarinda I 
Not even prejudice will dare to say so: for pene- 
tration and discernment, Clarinda sees far be- 
yond her. To wit, Miss N dare make no 

pretence : to Clarinda's wit, scarce any of her 
sex dare make pretence. Personal charms, it 
would be ridiculous to run the parallel : and for 
conduct in life, Miss N was never called 



246 SYLVAXDER TO CLARINDA. 

out, either much to do, or to suffer. Clarinda 
has been both; and has performed her part, where 

Miss N would have sunk at the bare idea. 

Away, then, with these disquietudes ! Let us 
pray with the honest weaver of Kilbarchan, " Lord 
send us a gude conceit o** oursel ! " or in the words 
of the auld sang, 

" Who does me disdain, I can scorn them again, 
And I'll never mind any such foes." 

There is an error in the commerce of intimacy. 



Happy is our lot, indeed, when we meet with an 
honest merchant, who is qualified to deal with us 
on our own terms ; but that is a rarity : with al- 
most everybody we must pocket our pearls, less 
or more ; and learn, in the old Scots phrase, 
M To gie sic like as we get." For this reason, we 
should try to erect a kind of bank or storehouse 
in our own mind ; or, as the Psalmist says, 
u We should commune with our own hearts, and 
be still." * * * * 



CLARINDA TO SYLYANDER. 247 

I wrote you Yesternight, which will reach you 
Ions: before this can. I may write Mr Ainslie 
before I see him, but I am not sure. 

Farewell ! and remember 

Sylyandek. 



LETTER LIV. 

CLARIXDA TO SYLYAXDER. 

Edinburgh, 8th March, 1788. 
I was agreeably surprised by your answer to 
mine of Wednesday coming this morning. I 
thought it always took two days, a letter from this 
to Mauchline, and did not expect yours sooner 
than Monday. This is the fifth from you, and 
the fourth time I am now writing you. I hate 
calculating them : like some things, they don't do 
to be numbered. I wish you had written from 
Dumfries, as you promised; but I do not impute 
it to any cause but hurry of business, &c. I hope 
I shall never live to reproach you with unkind- 
ness. You never outfit to put off till you " have 
time to do justice to your letters." I have suffi- 
cient memorials of your abilities in that way , 



248 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

and last week, two lines, to have said " How do ye, 
my Clarinda," would have saved me days and 
nights of cruel disquietude. "A word to the 
wise," you know. I know human nature better 
than to expect always fine flights of fancy, or ex- 
ertions of genius, and feel in myself the effects of 
this " crazy mortal coil," upon its glorious inhabi- 
tant. To-day, I have a clogging headache ; but, 
however stupid, I know (at least I hope) a letter 
from your heart's friend will be acceptable. It will 
reach you to-morrow, I hope. Shocking custom ! 
one can't entertain with hospitality, without taxing 
their guests with the consequences you mention. 
Your reflections upon the effects which sick- 
ness has on our retrospect of ourselves, are noble. 
I see my Sylvander will be all I wish him, be- 
fore he leaves this world. Do you remember 
what simple eulogium I pronounced on you, when 
Miss Nimmo asked, what I thought of you : — 
" He is ane of God's ain ; but his time 's no come 
yet." It was like a speech from your worthy 
mother, — whom I revere. She would have joined 
me with a heartfelt sigh, which none but mothers 
know. It is rather a bad picture of us, that we 



CLARINDA TO SYLVAXDER. 249 

are most prone to call upon God in trouble. Ought 
not the daily blessings of health, peace, compe- 
tence, friends, — ought not these to awaken our 
constant gratitude to the Giver of all I I imagine, 
that the heart which does not occasionally glow 
with filial love in the hours of prosperity, can 
hardly hope to feel much comfort in flying to God 
in the time of distress. O my dear Sylvander ! 
that we may be enabled to set Him before us, as 
our witness, benefactor, and judge, at all times, 
and on all occasions ! 

In the name of wonder how could you spend 

ten hours with such a as Mr Pattison I What 

a despicable character ! Eeligion ! he knows only 
the name ; none of her real votaries ever wished 
to make any such shameful compromises. But 'tia 
Scripture verified — the demon of avarice, his ori- 
ginal devil, finding him empty, called other seven 
more impure spirits, and so completely infernalized 
him. Destitute of discernment to perceive your 
merit, or taste to relish it, my astonishment at 
his fondness of vou, is onlv surpassed bv vour 
more than Puritanic patience in listening to his 
shocking nonsense ! 1 hope you renewed his 



250 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

certificate. 1 was told, it was in a tattered condi- 
dition some months ago, and that then he pro- 
posed putting it on parchment, by way of preserv- 
ing it. Don't call me severe : I hate all who would 
turn the " Grace of God into licentiousness ;" His 
commonly the weaker part of mankind who at- 
tempt it. 

"Religion, Thou the soul of happiness." 

Yesterday morning in bed I happened to think of 
you. I said to myself, " My bonnie Lizzie 
Baillie," &c, and laughed ; but I felt a delicious 
swell of heart, and my eyes swam in tears. I 
know not if your sex ever feel this burst of affec- 
tion; 'tis an emotion indescribable. You see Fm 
grown a fool since you left me. You know I was 
rational, when you first knew me, but I always 
grow more foolish, the farther I am from those I 
love ; by and by I suppose I shall be insane alto- 
gether. 

I am happy your little lamb is doing so well. 
Did you execute my commission ? You had a 
great stock on hand ; and, if any agreeable custo- 
mers came in the way, you would dispose of some 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 251 

of them I fancy, hoping soon to be supplied with 
a fresh assortment. For my part I can truly 
say, I have had no demand. I really believe you 
have taught me dignity, which, partly through 
good nature, and partly by misfortune, had been 
too much laid aside ; which now I never will part 
with. Why should I not keep it up I Admired, 
esteemed, beloved, by one of the first of mankind ! 
Not all the wealth of Peru could have purchased 
these. Oh, Sylvander, I am great in my own 
eyes, w T hen I think how high I am in your 
esteem ! You have shown me the merit I pos- 
sess ; I knew it not before. Even Joseph trembled 
t'other day in my presence. " Husbands looked 
mild, and savages grew tame !" Love and cher- 
ish your friend Mr Ainslie. He is your friend 
indeed. I long for next week ; happy days, I hope, 
yet await us. When you meet young Beauties, 
think of Clarinda's affection — of her situation — 
of how much her happiness depends on you. 

Farewell, till we meet. God be with you. 

Clarixda. 

P.S. — Will you take the trouble to send for a 
small parcel left at Dunlop and Wilsoifs, Book- 



252 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

sellers, Trongate, Glasgow, for me, and bring it 
with you in the Fly ? 



LETTER LV. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[31st March.~] 
I will meet you to-morrow, Clarinda, as you 
appoint. My Excise affair is just concluded, and 
I have got my order for instructions : so far 
good. Wednesday night I am engaged to sup 
among some of the principals of the Excise : so 
can only make a call for you that evening ; but- 
next dav, I stav to dine with one of the Oommis- 
sioners, so cannot go till Friday morning. 

Your hopes, your fears, your cares, my love, 
are mine; so don't mind them. I will take you 
in my hand through the dreary wilds of this 
world, and scare away the ravening bird or beast 
that would annoy you. I saw Mary in town to- 
day, and asked her if she had seen you. I shall 
certainly bespeak Mr Ainslie as you desire. 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 253 

Excuse me, my dearest angel, this hurried 
scrawl and miserable paper ; circumstances make 
both. Farewell till to-morrow. 

Sylvander. 

Monday ^ Noon, 



LETTER LVI. 

SYLVANDER to GLARINDA. 

[8th April.'] 
I am just hurrying away to wait on the Great 
Man, Clarinda ; but I have more respect to my 
own peace and happiness, than to set out without 
w r aiting on you ; for my imagination, like a 
child's favourite bird, will fondly flutter along 
with this scrawl, till it perch on your bosom. I 
thank you for all the happiness you bestowed on 
me yesterday. The walk — delightful ; the even- 
ing — rapture. Do not be uneasy to-day, Cla- 
rinda ; forgive me. I am in rather better spirits 
to-day, though I had but an indifferent night. 
Care, anxiety, sat on my spirits ; and all the 

M 



254 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

cheerfulness of this morning is the fruit of some 
serious, important ideas that lie, in their realities, 
beyond " the dark and the narrow house," as 
Ossian, prince of poets, says. The Father of 
Mercies be with you, Clarinda ! and every good 
thing attend you ! 

Sylvander. 
Tuesday Morning. 



LETTER LVII. 
SYLVANDER to clarinda. 

Wednesday Morning, [9th AprilJ] 

Clarinda, will that envious night-cap hinder 
you from appearing at the window as I pass ? 
" Who is she that looketh forth as the morning ; 
fair as the sun, clear as the moon, terrible as an 
army with banners V 

Do not accuse me of fond folly for this line ; 
you know I am a cool lover. I mean by these 
presents greeting, to let you to wit, that arch- 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 255 

rascal, Creech,* has not done my business yester- 
night, which has put off my leaving town till 
Monday morning. To-morrow, at eleven, I meet 
with him for the last time ; just the hour I should 
have met far more agreeable company. 

You will tell me this evening, whether you 
cannot make our hour of meeting to-morrow one 
o'clock. I have just now written Creech such 
a letter, that the very goose-feather in my hand 
shrunk back from the line, and seemed to say, " I 
exceedingly fear and quake !" I am forming ideal 

schemes of vengeance. 

***** 

Adieu, and think on 

Sylvander. 

* This eminent bookseller, who published the second edition 
of Burns' poems, was a pleasant companion, but of penurious 
habits, and extremely dilatory in the settlement of accounts, 
though a man of considerable wealth. The Poet had liked 
him at first, but latterly chafed exceedingly under the delay 
which the publisher made in rendering payment. 



256 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

LETTER LVIII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Friday, Nine o'clock. Night, \l\th April '.] 
I am just now come in, and have read your 
letter. The first thing I did, was to thank the 
Divine Disposer of events, that he has had such 
happiness in store for me as the connexion I have 
with you. Life, my Clarinda, is a weary, barren 
path ; and wo be to him or her that ventures on 
it alone ! For me, I have my dearest partner of 
my soul : Clarinda and I will make out our pil- 
grimage together. Wherever I am, I shall con- 
stantly let her know how I go on, what I observe 
in the world around me, and what adventures I 
meet with. Will it please you, my love, to get, 
every week, or, at least, every fortnight, a packet, 
two or three sheets, full of remarks, nonsense, 
news, rhymes, and old songs ? 

Will you open, with satisfaction and delight, a 
letter from a man who loves you, who has loved 
you, and who will love you to death, through 
death, and for ever ? Oh Clarinda ! what do I 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA, 257 

owe to Heaven for blessing me with such a piece 
of exalted excellence as you ! I call over your 
idea, as a miser counts over his treasure ! Tell 
me, were you studious to please me last night \ 
I am sure you did it to transport. How rich am 
1 who have such a treasure as you ! You know 
me ; you know how to make me happy, and you 
do it most effectually. God bless you with 
" Long life, long youth, long pleasure, and a friend !" 
To-morrow night, according to your own direc- 
tion, I shall watch the window : 'tis the star that 
guides me to paradise. The great relish to all is, 
that Honour, that Innocence, that Religion, are 
the witnesses and guarantees of our happiness. 
" The Lord God knoweth,' n and, perhaps, " Israel 
he shall know," my love and your merit. Adieu, 
Clarinda ! I am going to remember you in my 
prayers.* 

Sylvander. 

* Probably several letters written about this period are lost. 
During the month, which the poet spent in Edinburgh, after hi3 
visit to Ayrshire, more than four letters must have passed. 

With the exception of Letter LXVIL, none of the letters of 
Clarinda, after the Poet's departure, have come into possession 
of the Editor. 



258 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

When Burns left Edinburgh in April 1788, he pre- 
sented an elegant pair of drinking glasses to Clarinda, 
with the following verses. The glasses were carefully 
preserved by her, and often taken down from the open 
cupboard in her parlour, to show to strangers. They 
are now in possession of the Editor. 

TO CLARINDA, 

WITH A PRESENT OF A PAIR OF DRINKING GLASSES. 

Fair Empress of the Poet's soul, 

And Queen of Poetesses, 
Clarinda, take this little boon, 

This humble pair of glasses ; 

And fill them high with generous juice, 

As generous as your mind, 
And pledge me in the generous toast, 

" The whole of humankind ! " 

a To those who lore us ! " second fill, 

But not to those whom we love ; 
Lest we love those who love not us. 

A third, " To thee and me, love ! " 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 259 

LETTER LIX. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

March 9th, 1789. 

Madam, — The letter you wrote me to Heron's 
carried its own answer in its bosom ; you forbade 
me to write you, unless I was willing to plead 
guilty to a certain indictment that you were 
pleased to bring against me. As lam convinced 
of my own innocence, and, though conscious of 
high imprudence and egregious folly, can lay my 
hand on my breast and attest the rectitude of my 
heart, you will pardon me, Madam, if I do not 
carry my complaisance so far, as humbly to ac- 
quiesce in the name of Villain, merely out of com- 
pliment to your opinion ; much as I esteem your 
judgment, and warmly as I regard your worth. 

I have already told you, and I again aver it, 
that, at the period of time alluded to, I was not 

under the smallest moral tie to Mrs B ; nor 

did I, nor could I then know, all the powerful 
circumstances that omnipotent necessity was busy 
laying in wait for me. When you call over the 



260 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

scenes that have passed between us. you will 
survey the conduct of an honest man, struggling 
successfully with temptations, the most powerful 
that ever beset humanity, and preserving un- 
tainted honour, in situations where the austerest 
virtue would have forgiven a fall : situations that, 
I will dare to say, not a single individual of all 
his kind, even with half his sensibility and pas- 
sion, could have encountered without ruin ; and 
I leave you to guess, Madam, how such a man 
is likely to digest an accusation of perfidious 
treachery. 

Was I to blame, Madam, in being the distract- 
ed victim of charms which, I affirm it, no man 
ever approached with impunity ? Had I seen the 
least glimmering of hope that these charms could 
ever have been mine ; or even had not iron ne- 
cessitv But these are unavailing words. 

I would have called on you when I was in town, 
indeed I could not have resisted it, but that Mr 
Ainslie told me, that you were determined to avoid 
your windows while I was in town, lest even a 
glance of me should occur in the street. 

When I shall have regained your good opinion, 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 261 

perhaps I may venture to solicit your friendship; 
but, be that as it may, the first of her sex I ever 
knew shall always be the object of my warmest 
srood wishes. 



LETTER LX. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

{Spring o/l791.] 
I have, indeed, been ill, Madam, this whole 
winter. An incessant headache, depression of 
spirits, and all the truly miserable consequences of 
a deranged nervous system, have made dreadful 
havoc of my health and peace. Add to all this, a 
line of life, into which I have lately entered, obliges 
me to ride, upon an average, at least two hundred 
miles every week. However, thank heaven I am 
now greatly better in my health. „ 



I cannot, will not, enter into extenuatory circum- 
stances ; else I could show you how my precipitate, 



m z 



262 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 



headlong, unthinking conduct leagued, with a con- 
juncture of unlucky events, to thrust me out of a 
possibility of keeping the path of rectitude; to 
curse me, by an irreconcileable war between my 
duty and my nearest wishes, and to damn me 
with a choice only of different species of error and 
misconduct. 

I dare not trust myself further with this sub- 
ject. The following song is one of my latest pro- 
ductions ; and I send it you as I would do any- 
thing else, because it pleases myself. 

MY LOVELY NANCY. 
Tune — The Quaker's Wife. 

I. 

Thine am I, my faithful fair, 

Thine, my lovely Nancy ; 
Ev'ry pulse along my veins, 

Ev'ry roving fancy. 

II. 

To thy bosom lay my heart, 
There to throb and languish : 

Tho' despair had wrung its core, 
That would heal its anguish. 

III. 

Take away those rosy lips, 
Rich with balmy treasure ; 



SYLYANDER TO CLARINDA, 263 

Turn away thine eyes of love, 
Lest I die with pleasure. 

IV. 

What is life when wanting love ! 

Night without a morning : 
Love 's the cloudless summer sun, 

Nature gay adorning. 



LETTER LXI. 

SYLYANDER to CLARINDA. 

\_Autumn o/l791.] 
I haYe receiYed both your last letters, Madam, 
and ought, and would haYe answered the first, long 
ago. But on what subject shall I write you I 
How can you expect a correspondent should write 
you, when you declare that you mean to preseiwe 
his letters, with a view, sooner or later, to expose 
them on the pillory of derision, and the rack of 
criticism ; This is gagging me completely, as to 
speaking the sentiments of my bosom ; else, 
Madam, I could, perhaps, too truly 

"Join grief with grief, and echo sighs to thine !" 
I have perused your most beautiful, but most 



264 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

pathetic Poem : do not ask me how often, or with 
what emotions. You know that " I dare to sm, 
but not to lie /*" Your verses wring the confession 
from my inmost soul, that— I will say it, expose 
it if you please — that I have, more than once in 
my life, been the victim of a damning conjuncture 
of circumstances ; and that to me you must be ever 

" Dear as the light that visits those sad eyes." 

I have just, since I had yours, composed the 
following stanzas. Let me know your opinion of 
them. 

K Sweet Sensibility, how charming, 
Thou, my Friend, canst truly tell ; 

But how Distress, with horrors arming, 
Thou, alas ! hast known too well ! 

Fairest Flower, behold the lily, 

Blooming in the sunny ray ; 
Let the blast sweep o'er the valley, 

See it prostrate on the clay. 

Hear the wood-lark charm the forest. 

Telling o'er his little joys ; 
But, alas ! a prey the surest 

To each pirate of the skies. 

Dearly bought the hidden treasure 

Finer feelings can bestow : 
Cords that vibrate sweetest pleasure 

Thrill the deepest notes of wo." 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 265 

I have one other piece in your taste ; but I have 
just a snatch of time. 



LETTER LXII. 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER. 

\_Nor ember 9 1791.] 
Sir, — I take the liberty of addressing a few 
lines in behalf of your old acquaintance, Jenny 
Clow, who, to all appearance, is at this moment 
dying. Obliged, from all the symptoms of a rapid 
decay, to quit her service, she is gone to a room 
almost without common necessaries, unt ended and 
unmourned. In circumstances so distressing, to 
whom can she so naturally look for aid as to the 
father of her child, the man for whose sake she has 
suffered many a sad and anxious night, shut from 
the world, with no other companions than guilt and 
solitude ? You have now an opportunity to evince 
you indeed possess these fine feelings you have 
delineated, so as to claim the just admiration of 
your country. I am convinced I need add nothing 
farther to persuade you to act as every conside- 



266 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

ration of humanity as well as gratitude must dic- 
tate. I am, Sir, your sincere well-wisher, 

A. M. 



LETTER LXIII. 

SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

Dumfries , 23d November, 1791. 
It is extremely difficult, my dear Madam, for 
me to deny a lady anything ; but to a lady whom 
I regard with all the endearing epithets of re- 
spectful esteem and old friendship, how shall I find 
the language of refusal ? I have, indeed, a shade 
of the lady, which I keep, and shall ever keep in 
the sanctum sanctorum of my most anxious care. 
That lady, though an unfortunate and irresistible 
conjuncture of circumstances has lost me her 
esteem, yet she shall be ever, to me 

" Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart." 

I am rather anxious for her sake, as to her voyage. 
I pray God my fears may be groundless. By the 
way, 1 have this moment a letter from her, with a 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. ZO '/ 

paragraph or two conceived in so stately a style, 
that I would not pardon it in any created being 
except herself; but, as the subject interests me 
much, I shall answer it to you, as I do not know 
her present address. I am sure she must have 
told you of a girl, a Jenny Clow 7 , who had the 
misfortune to make me a father, with contrition 
I own it, contrary to the laws of our most excellent 
constitution, in our holy Presbyterian hierarchy. 

Mrs M tells me a tale of the poor girl's 

distress that makes my very heart weep blood. I 
will trust that your goodness will apologize to 
your delicacy for me, when I beg of you, for Hea- 
ven's sake, to send a porter to the poor woman — 
MrsM., it seems, knows where she is to be found — 
with five shillings in my name ; and, as I shall be 
in Edinburgh on Tuesday first, for certain, make 
the poor wench leave a line for me, before Tues- 
day, at Mr Mackay's, White Hart Inn, Grass- 
market, where I shall put up ; and, before I am 
two hours in town, I shall see the poor girl, and 
try what is to be done for her relief. I would 
have taken my boy from her long ago, but she 
would never consent. 



268 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

I shall do myself the very great pleasure to call 
for you when I come to town, and repay you the sum 
your goodness shall have advanced. * * 
* * and most obedient, 

Robert Burns. 



LETTER LXIV. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 
LAMENT OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS. 

A BALLAD. 
I. 

Now Nature hangs her mantle green 

On every blooming tree, 
And spreads her sheets o' daisies white 

Out o'er the grassy lea ; 
Now Phoebus cheers the crystal streams, 

And glads the azure skies ; 
But nought can glad the careful wight 

That fast in durance lies. 

II. 

Now laverocks wake the merry morn, 

Aloft on dewy wing ; 
The merle, in his noontide bower, 

Makes a' the echoes ring ; 



SYLVAXDER TO CLARINDA. 269 

The mavis mild wi' many a note 

Sings drowsy day to rest : 
In love and freedom they rejoice, 

Wi' care nor thrall opprest. 

III. 

Now blooms the lily by the bank, 

The primrose doun the brae ; 
The hawthorn 's budding in the glen, 

And milk-white is the slae : 
The meanest hind in fair Scotland 

May rove thae sweets among ; 
But I, the Queen of a' Scotland, 

Maun lie in prison strong. 

IV. 

I was the Queen o' bonny France, 

Where happy I hae been ; 
Fu' lightly rose I on the morn, 

As blithe lay doun at e'en : 
And I'm the Sovereign of Scotland, 

And mony a traitor there ! 
Yet here I lie, in foreign bands 

And never-ending care. 

V. 

But as for thee, thou false woman, 

My sister and my fae, 
Grim Vengeance yet shall whet a sword 

That thro' thy soul shall gae. 
The weeping blood in woman's breast, 

Was never known to thee ; 
Nor th' balm that draps on wounds of wae, 

Frae woman's pitying e'e. 



270 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

VI. 

My son, my son, may kinder stars 

Upon thy fortune shine ; 
And may those pleasures gild thy reign, 

That ne'er would blink on mine ! 
Heaven shield thee frae thy mother's faes, 

Or turn their hearts to thee : 
And where thou meet'st thy mother's friend, 

Remember him for me. 

VII. 
O, soon to me may summer suns, 

Nae mair light up the morn ! 
Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds 

Wave o'er the yellow corn ! 
But in the narrow house o' death 

Let winter o'er me rave ; 
And the next flowers that deck the spring 

Bloom on my peaceful grave ! 

Such, my dearest Clarinda, were the words of 
the amiable but unfortunate Mary. Misfortune 
seems to take a peculiar pleasure, in darting her 
arrows against " honest men and bonny lasses." 
Of this, you are too, too just a proof; but may 
your future fate be a bright exception to the 
remark ! In the words of Hamlet, 

" Adieu, adieu, adieu ! Remember me." 

Sylvander. 
Leadhills, Thursday, Noon, [11th December, 1791.] 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 271 

LETTER LXV. 

SYLVANDER to CLAMNDA. 

Dumfries, {loth December, 1791.] 
I have some merit, iny ever dearest of women, 
in attracting and securing the heart of Clarinda. In 
her I met with the most accomplished of all woman- 
kind, the first of all God's works ; and yet I, even I, 
had the good fortune to appear amiable in her sight. 
By the by, this is the sixth letter that I have 
written you since I left you ; and if you were an 
ordinary being, as you are a creature very extra- 
ordinary — an instance of what God Almighty in 
the plenitude of his power, and the fulness of his 
goodness, can make ! — I would never forgive you 
for not answering my letters. 

I have sent in your hair, a part of the parcel 
you gave me, with a measure, to Mr Bruce the 
jeweller in Prince's Street, to get a ring done for 
me. I have likewise sent in the verses On Sensi- 
bility altered to 

" Sensibility how charming, 

Dearest Nancy, thou canst tell," &c, 



272 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

to the Editor of the Scots Songs, of which you 
have three volumes, to set to a most beautiful air; 
out of compliment to the first of women, my ever- 
beloved, my ever-sacred Clarinda. I shall pro- 
bably write you to-morrow. In the meantime, 
from a man who is literally drunk, accept and 
forgive ! 

R. B. 



LETTER LXVI. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

Dumfries, 27th December, 1791. 
I have yours, my ever dearest Madam, this mo- 
ment. I have just ten minutes before the post goes ; 
and these I shall employ in sending you some songs 
T have just been composing to different tunes, for 
the Collection of Songs, of which you have three 
volumes, and of which you shall have the fourth. 

SONG. 
Tune — Bory DalPs Port 

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; 
Ae fareweel, and then for ever ! 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. Z i o 

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, 
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. 

Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, 
While the star of hope she leaves him I 
Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me ; 
Dark despair around benights me. 

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, 
Naething could resist my Nancy : 
But to see her, was to love her; 
Love but her, and love for ever. 

Had we never loved sae kindly, 
Had we never loved sae blindly ! 
Never met — or never parted, 
We had ne'er been broken-hearted. 

Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest ! 
Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest ! 
Thine be ilka joy and treasure, 
Peace, Enjoyment, Love, and Pleasure ! 

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ; 

Ae fareweel, alas, for ever ! 

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, 

Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.* 

* The fourth stanza Byron put at the head of his poem of the 
Bride of Abydos. Scott has remarked that it is worth a thou- 
sand romances ; and Mrs Jameson has elegantly said, that 
not only are these lines what Scott says, " But in themselves a 
complete romance. They are," she adds, u the alpha and omega 



274 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

SONG. 

To an old Scots Tune. 
Behold the hour, the boat, arrive ! 

My dearest Nancy, fareweel ! 
Sever'd frae thee, can I survive, 

Frae thee whom I hae loved sae weel ? 

Endless and deep shall be my grief; 

Nae ray o' comfort shall I see ; 
But this most precious, dear belief ! 

That thou wilt still remember me. 

Alang the solitary shore, 

Where fleeting sea-fowl round me cry, 
Across the rolling, dashing roar, 

I'll westward turn my wistful eye: 

Happy, thou Indian grove, I'll say, 
Where now my Nancy's path shall be ! 

While thro' your sweets she holds her way, 
tell me, does she muse on me ! ! ! 

SONG. 

To a charming plaintive Scots Air. 

Ance mair I hail thee, thou gloomy December ! 

Ance mair I hail thee wi' sorrow and care : 
Sad was the parting thou mak'st me remember, 

Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair ! 

of feeling, and contain the essence of an existence of pain and 
pleasure, distilled into one burning drop." — Chambers. 

Rory, or Roderick Dall, was a celebrated blind Highland 
harper. Port, in Gaelic, signifies a plaintive strain of music. 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 275 

Fond lovers' parting is sweet, painful pleasure, 
Hope beaming mild on the soft parting hour ; 

But the dire feeling, oh, farewell for ever ! 
Anguish unmingled and agony pure ! 

The rest of this song is on the wheels. 

Adieu. Adieu. 
Sylyander. 

The poet afterwards added the following verses :— 

Wild as the winter now tearing the forest, 
Till the last leaf o' the summer is flown, 

Such is the tempest has shaken my bosom, 
Since my last hope and last comfort is gone ! 

Still as I hail thee, thou gloomy December, 
Still shall I hail thee wi' sorrow and care ; 

For sad was the parting thou mak'st me remember, 
Parting wi' Nancy, oh, ne'er to meet mair ! 



LETTER LXVIL 

CLARINDA to SYLVANDER, 

25th January, 1792. 
Agitated, hurried to death, I sit down to write 
a few lines to you, my ever dear, dear friend ! 



276 CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 

We are ordered aboard on Saturday, — to sail on 
Sunday. And now, my dearest Sir, I have a few 
things to say to you, as the last advice of her, 
who could have lived or died with you ! I am 
happy to know of your applying so steadily to the 
business you have engaged in ; but, oh remem- 
ber, this life is a short, passing scene ! Seek God's 
favour, — keep His Commandments, — be solicitous 
to prepare for a happy eternity ! There, I trust, we 
will meet, in perfect and never-ending bliss. Read 
my former letters attentively : let the religious 
tenets there expressed sink deep into your mind ; 
meditate on them with candour, and your accurate 
judgment must be convinced that they accord with 
the words of Eternal Truth ! Laugh no more at 
holy things, or holy men : remember, " without 
holiness, no man shall see God." Another thing, 
and I have done : as you value my peace, do 
not write me to Jamaica, until I let you know 
you may with safety. AVrite Mary often. She 
feels for you ! and judges of your present feelings 
by her own. I am sure you will be happy to hear 
of my happiness : and I trust you will — soon. 
If there is time, you may drop me a line ere I 



CLARINDA TO SYLVANDER. 277 

go, to inform me if you get this, and another 
letter I wrote you, dated the 21st, which I am 
afraid of having been neglected to be put into the 
office. 

So it was the Roselle you were to have gone in ! 
I read your letter to-day, and reflected deeply on 
the ways of Heaven ! To us they oft appear dark 
and doubtful ; but let us do our duty faithfully, 
and sooner or later w T e will have our reward, 
because "the Lord God Omnipotent reigns :" every 
upright mind has here cause to rejoice. And now, 
adieu. May Almighty God bless you and yours ! 
take you into His blessed favour here, and after- 
wards receive you into His glory ! 

Farewell. I will ever, ever remain 

Your real friend, 

A. M. 



Burns' thoughts often reverted to his fair friends and 
Edinburgh society. In February, 1792, Mrs M'Lehose 
sailed for Jamaica, about two months after the Poet's 
final interview with her. In the course of the ensuing 
summer, he bewailed her absence in the following 
pastoral : — 

X 



278 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

MY NANNIE'S AW A'. 
Tune — There HI never be peace, fyc. 

I. 

Now in her green mantle blithe Nature arrays, 
And listens the lambkins that bleat o'er the braes, 
While birds warble welcome in ilka green shaw ; 
But to me it 's delightless — my Nannie 's awa'. 

II. 

The snaw-drap and primrose our woodlands adorn, 
And violets bathe in the weet o' the morn ; 
They pain my sad bosom, sae sweetly they blaw, - 
They mind me o' Nannie — and Nannie 's awa'.' 

III. 

Thou laverock that springs frae the dews of the lawn,. 
The shepherd to warn o' the gray-breaking dawn ; 
And thou mellow mavis that hails the night fa', 
Give over for pity — my Nannie 's awa'. 

IV. 

Come autumn, sae pensive, in yellow and gray, 
And soothe me with tidings o' Nature's decay : 
The dark dreary winter and wild driving snaw 
Alane can delight me — now Nannie 's awa' ! 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 279 

LETTER LXVIII. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[Autumn o/l792.] 
I suppose, my dear Madam, that by your ne- 
glecting to inform me of your arrival in Europe. 
— a circumstance that could not be indifferent to 
me, as, indeed, no occurrence relating to you can, 
— you meant to leave me to guess and gather 
that a correspondence I once had the honour and 
felicity to enjoy, is to be no more. Alas ! what 
heavy-laden sounds are these — " No more ! v 
The wretch who has never tasted pleasure, has 
never known wo ; what drives the soul to mad- 
ness, is the recollection of joys that are " no 
more ! " But this is not language to the world : 
they do not understand it. But come, ye few, 
— the children of Feeling and Sentiment ! — ye 
whose trembling bosom-chords ache to unutter- 
able anguish, as recollection gushes on the heart ! 
— ye who are capable of an attachment, keen as 
the arrow of Death, and strong as the vigour of 
immortal being, — come ! and your ears shall 



280 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

drink a tale But, hush ! I must not, can not 

tell it ; agony is in the recollection, and frenzy 
in the recital ! 

But Madam,— to leave the paths that lead to 
madness, — I congratulate your friends on your 
return; and I hope that the precious health, 
which Miss P. tells me is so much injured, is re- 
stored, or restoring. There is a fatality attends 
Miss Peacock's correspondence and mine. Two 
of my letters, it seems, she never received ; and 
her last came while I was in Ayrshire, was 
unfortunately mislaid, and only found about ten 
days or a fortnight ago, on removing a desk of 
drawers. 

I present you a book : may I hope you will 
accept of it. I daresay you will have brought 
your books with you. The fourth volume of the 
Scots Songs is published ; I will presume to send 
it you. Shall I hear from you ? But first hear 
me. No cold language — no prudential documents : 
I despise advice, and scorn control. If you are 
not to write such language, such sentiments as 
you know I shall wish, shall delight to receive, I 
conjure you, by wounded pride ! by ruined 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 281 

peace ! by frantic, disappointed passion ! by all 
the many ills that constitute that sum of human 
woes, a broken heart ! ! ! — to me be silent for 
ever. * 



LETTER LXIX. 

SYLVANDER to CLARINDA. 

[1793.] 
Before you ask me why I have not written 
you, first let me be informed by you, hoio I shall 
write you? "In friendship," you say; and I 
have many a time taken up my pen to try an 
epistle of " friendship" to you ; but it will not 
do : 'tis like Jove grasping a pop-gun, after hav- 
ing wielded his thunder. When I take up the 
pen, recollection ruins me. Ah ! my ever dearest 
Clarinda ! Clarinda ! What a host of memory's 
tenderest offspring crowd on my fancy at that 



\ 



282 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

sound ! But I must not indulge that subject. — 
You have forbid it. 

I am extremely happy to learn that your pre- 
cious health is reestablished, and that you are 
once more fit to enjoy that satisfaction in exis- 
tence, which health alone can give us. My old 
friend Ainslie has indeed been kind to you. Tell 
him that I envy him the power of serving you. I 
had a letter from him a while ago, but it was 
so dry, so distant, so like a card to one of his 
clients, that I could scarce bear to read it, and 
have not yet answered it. He is a good honest 
fellow, and can write a friendly letter, which 
would do equal honour to his head and his heart, 
as a whole sheaf of his letters which thave by 
me will witness ; and though Fame does not blow 
her trumpet at my approach now, as she did then, 
when he first honoured me with his friendship, 
yet I am as proud as ever ; and when I am laid in 
my grave, I wish to be stretched at my full length, 
that 1 may occupy every inch of ground I have a 
right to. 

You would laugh were you to see me where I 
am just now. Would to Heaven you were here to 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 283 

laugh with me, though I am afraid that crying 
would be our first employment. Here am I set, 
a solitary hermit, in the solitary room of a soli- 
tary inn, WTfch a solitary bottle of wine by me, 
as grave and as stupid as an owl, but like that 
owl, still faithful to my old song ; in confirmation 
of which, my dear Mrs Mac, here is your good 
health. May the hand-waled benisons o' Heaven 
bless your bonnie face ; and the wratch wha 
skellies at your welfare, may the auld tinkler deil 
get him to clout his rotten heart ! Amen. 

You must know, my dearest Madam, that these 
now many years, wherever I am, in whatever com- 
pany, when a married lady is called as a toast, I 
constantly give you ; but, as your name has never 
passed my lips, even to my most intimate friend, 
I give you by the name of Mrs Mac. This is 
so well known among my acquaintances, that 
when any married lady is called for, the toast- 
master will say — " O, we need not ask him who it 
is : here's Mrs Mac ! " I have also, among my 
convivial friends, set on foot a round of toasts, 
which I call a round of Arcadian Shepherdesses ; 
that is a round of favourite ladies, under female 



284 SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 

names celebrated in ancient song ; and then you 
are ray Clarinda. So, my lovely Clarinda, I de- 
vote this glass of wine to a most ardent wish for 
your happiness* 

In vain would Prudence, with decorous sneer, 
Point out a censuring world, and bid me fear : 
Above that world on wings of love I rise, 
I know its worst, and can that worst despise. 

* Wrong'd, injured, shunned, unpitied, unredrest ; 
The mock'd quotation of the scorner's jest" — 
Let Prudence' direst bodements on me fall, 
Clarinda, rich reward ! o'erpays them all. 

I have been rhyming a little of late, but I do 
not know if they are worth postage. 

Tell me what you think of the following monody. 



The subject of the foregoing is a woman of 
fashion in this country, with whom at one period 
I was well acquainted. By some scandalous con- 
duct to me, and two or three other gentlemen 
here as well as me, she steered so far to the north 
of my good opinion, that I have made her the 
theme of several ill-natured things. The follow- 



SYLVANDER TO CLARINDA. 285 

ing epigram struck me the other day as I passed 
her carriage. 



£The Monody, Epitaph, and Epigram, which Burns 
lived to regret having written, are printed in his 
Works.] 



n-2 



APPENDIX. 



MRS M'LEHOSE'S FUGITIVE POETRY. 



APPENDIX. 



The following fugitive Pieces are all that remain of 
the Poetry of Mrs M'Lehose. 

TO A BLACKBIRD SINGING ON A TREE. 

Morningside, 1784. 
Go on, sweet bird, and soothe my care, 
Thy cheerful notes will hush despair ; 
Thy tuneful warblings, void of art, 
Thrill sweetly through my aching heart. 
Now choose thy mate and fondly love, 
And all the charming transport prove ; 
Those sweet emotions all enjoy, 
Let Love and Song thy hours employ ; 
Whilst I, a love-lorn exile, live, 
And raptnre nor receive nor give. 
Go on, sweet bird, and soothe my care, 
Thy cheerful notes will hush despair.* 



* Burns added four lines to this song, and having " pruned its 
[the Blackbird's] wings a little," (see Letter XXXVII.,) in- 
serted it in Johnson's Musical Museum. 



^0 TO MR AINSLIE. 



TO MR AINSLIE, 

ON HIS LEAVING A VISITING CARD ON CHRISTMAS-DAY, 
AFTER HAVING BEEN A GREAT STRANGER. 

Canongate, 1790. 

Full many a Christmas have I seen, 

But ne'er saw this before — 
One's dear and always welcome friend 

A card leave at the door. 
Such ceremony sure bespeaks 

A friendship in the wane : 
Friendship, dear tie, when once it breaks, 

Is seldom knit again. 
Then fare-ye-well, my once dear friend, 

And happy may you be ; 
May all your future hours be blest 

Like those you've spent with me I 



EPITAPH ON MY GRANDCHILD'S CAT. 

Poor Puss is dead ! and William weeps, 

Refuses food, and hardly sleeps, 

Bemoaning o'er her early fate, 

His blithe companion air and late. 

Secure in his encircling arm, 

He deemed her safe from every harm, 



OX THE LOSS OF MY CHILD. 291 

Frisking around him all the day, 
In lively gambols, sport, and play ; 
At night when stretched on carpet-rug, 
Could scarce resist his kindly tug. 
Why, grisly Death, diclst thou appear, 
So soon to stop her gay career ? 
For she was sleekit, soft, and fair ; 
Grimalkin, sweet ! of virtues rare ! 
Caress'd, alternate, by each boy, 
Their morning care, their evening joy. 
Now cold she lies ! The youthful tear 
Embalms poor Pussy's mournful bier. 
But, dry your eyes, my lovely boys, 
Life has for you a store of joys. 



ON THE LOSS OF MY CHILD, 1788. 

Does Heaven behold these sadly-falling tears, 
Shed by a mother o'er her darling child ? 

Ah, blasted hopes ! and heart-distracting fears, 
That fill my breast with frantic sorrow wild ! 

Yes, Heaven beholds ; from thence the stroke descends, 
And Heaven alone can heal the wounds it gave. 

Oh, Thou, who dost afflict for gracious ends, 
Lead my sad soul to scenes beyond the grave. 



292 ON THE AUTUMN OF LIFE. 

'Tis there alone all tears are wiped away ; 

There death-divided friends shall part no more. 
Oh, Thou Supreme ! whose years know no delay, 

Teach me thy dispensations to adore. 



ON THE AUTUMN OF LIFE. 

Hail, pensive season ! autumn of our days ! 

Though youth he past, and vivid pleasures o'er, 

Thou showerest down thy precious fruits of wisdom, 

Making us pause upon those mingled scenes 

Of hliss and wo, that mark our passing state. 

How oft the mind of sensibility 

Recalls, in sadly-pleasing retrospect, 

" The things that were," and must return no more ; 

The parents dear, who rear d our early life ; 

The early friend, on whose fond breast we leand ; 

Or innocent, smiling babes, whose sweet endearments, 

Twining around our hearts, have left a void, 

Which nought but Heaven itself can e'er supply. 

But, though our pleasing spring of life be past, 

Autumn commenced, and winter full in view, 

That sombre season to the feeling mind 

Yields chastened joys to sprightly youth unknown: 

Reflection's calm but solitary hours, 

Passion subdued, and Friendship's tranquil joys. 

The mind matured reviews her mental stores, 



TO MR JAMES GRAY. --JO 

Her knowledge, high capacities, and powers- 
Contemplates Nature in each varying form ; 
But chiefly human character in all 
Its shades and wonderful diversities ; 
Soars to the great First Cause ; beholds in Him 
Wisdom supreme, and Goodness infinite ; 
Resigns the world, and leans, with confidence, 
Upon the Rock of Ages. 



TO MR JAMES GRAY, 

OF THE HIGH SCHOOL, 

WHO HAD ASKED MY OPINION OF A BEAUTIFUL ODE HE HAD 
JUST PUBLISHED, ALONG WITH MY LINES ON A LINNET, 
WHICH HE HAD REQUESTED. 

My dear Mr Gray, have patience, I pray, 

While perusing my poor little Linnet ; 

Though pretty it seem, 'tis a trifling theme, 

And you really will find little in it. 

But your Ode so sublime, one Parnassus might climb, 

And yet not produce such another. 

One blemish to find, I have puzzled my mind ; 

And, save one, it is good altogether. 

Philosophers deem Life's joys all a dream ; 

But I ne'er heard its woes were eternal. 

Bliss eternal above, we all hope to prove : 

Leave the other to regions infernal. 



294 ON THE DEATH OF A LINNET. 



ON THE DEATH OF MRS RIDLEY'S LINNET. 

Canongate, 1791. 
Alas, poor bird ! art thou no more ? 
What language can thy loss deplore, 
Thou who wast wont to he caress' d, 
Thy bed prepared, thy cage well dress'd, 
Thy drink so limpid, seed so rare, 
Provided by good Granum's care. 
No more thou'lt hail the rising day, 
No more thou'lt chirp, or hop, or play, 
Or eye the family askance 
At Johnny's song, or Betsy's dance. 
Yet, ah ! how blest thy little span, 
Compared with that of hapless man ! 
Pleased to the last, thou hopp'd and sung, 
No cares thy little bosom wrung ; 
No retrospect of evil past, 
Anticipation's withering blast, 
Malice' sharp tooth, or Envy's sting, 
E'er hush'd thy song, or shrunk thy wing. 
These demons were to thee unknown, 
They haunt superior man alone. 
Perhaps thy gentle spirit 's lent 
To inform some little, straggling ant ; 
Or in a bee, midst fragrant bowers, 
Extracting sweets from blushing flowers ; 



ON LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. 295 

Or, borne aloft o'er hill and dale, 
Sings ont in some sweet nightingale. 
Where'er thou art, sweet bird, farewell ! 
In peace and safety raay'st thou dwell ; 
Whilst I thy praises will rehearse, 
And save thy memory in my verse. 



ANSWER TO MRS SAVILLE'S QUERY— 

" TO LOVE CAN ANYTHING BE A LABOUR ? " 

To mutual love nought can a labour be, 
Where all is peace, and joy, and harmony < 
Love unrequited labour all must prove, 
Since Nature whispers, " Give me love for love," 
Our kind exertions, whatsoe'er they cost, 
Oh, may we never find Love's labour lost ! 



ON LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP, 

Talk not of Love ! it gives me pain — 
For Love has been my foe : 
He bound me in an iron chain ! 
And plunged me deep in wo ! 

But Friendship's pure and lasting joys 
My heart was formed to prove — 



296 TO MR ARCHIBALD MENZIES. 

The worthy object be of those, 
But never talk of Love. 

The "Hand of Friendship" I accept— 
May Honour be our guard, 
Virtue our intercourse direct, 
Her smiles our dear reward. 

Your thought, if Love must harbour there, 

Conceal it in that thought, 

Nor cause me from my bosom tear 

The very friend I sought. 



TO MR ARCHIBALD MENZIES. 

Canongate, 1791. 
My dear and ever much respected friend, 
Will you to-night a select few attend ? 
To see old Shakespeare's Hamlet tread the stage, 
Hear the pale Ghost the Queens sad doom presage ; 
Mourn o'er Ophelia's lost, distracted state, 
Admire the Prince midst wild confusion great ; 
At each fine stroke throughout the churchyard scene, 
Own that Immortal Shakespeare must remain. 



TO MISS AIKEN. 297 

TO MISS AIKEN. 

EXTEMPORE. 

Canongate, 1791. 
What we feel our bosom doing, 
When upon the brink of ruin, 
Is the name of her I love, — 
Shield her all ye powers above ! 



EDINBURGH : 

Printed by William Tait, 107, Prince's Street 



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